Toccata
by Gemenied
Summary: Grace and Boyd find themselves in quite a spot of trouble and the Home Office has an incredible idea who should help out.
1. Ouverture

A/N: So I'm back with a new multi-chaptered story. I've been at it for quite a while, even before series 9, so the story ignores all that happened there. It contains several things I've wanted to explore for a while, so it's all here. I've also snagged a character that CatS81 invented and ran amuck with it - but Cat kindly allowed me to do so, so it's all good. As I go off with this, I'd once again like to thank my support team - and...though being part of the team ;o) - ShadowSamurai83 for betaing (quite a few chapters more than once). You are all stars!

**Title**: Toccata

**Rating**: T+ (for swearing)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Not even the main OC here (That was Cats81's idea).

**Summary**: Grace and Boyd find themselves in quite a spot of trouble and the Home Office has an incredible idea who should help out.

Enjoy.

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><p><strong>"Toccata"<strong>

**Ouverture**

He had been sitting in the car for days. Hours and hours of inconspicuous driving, of sitting and watching. It was only interrupted sometimes by taking the tube or the bus, and slinking through supermarkets or along the high streets. Then it was back to sitting in the car and watching. Either in this quiet side road, where they were bound to be noticed soon, or in the public parking lot, in the hopes of not missing the decisive moment.

It was a tedious thing, trying his patience; especially since there was no result, despite close to two weeks of observation. There was just nothing to grasp, no particular point where one could make a catch.

The target was just never really alone. There was always somebody around. Usually the same person. A man. It was interesting to watch and just that little bit suspicious. The watcher had to admit, what he saw made a lot of sense, all things considered.

"So, that's her?"

"Yes," the watcher replied, disturbed by the fact that today he had been joined by another person. He wasn't happy about it. It made the small space inside the car even more confined, emotions adding to the pressure inside.

"Not much to look at, that Grace Foley." The comment was spit out with derision and more than a little loathing, and the watcher thought it smart to remain silent.

"Who's that man with her?"

"Peter Boyd," the watcher replied.

"Do you have to be so short in your information? Who is he?" The companion was quickly losing patience, annoyance marking the question.

In response, the watcher shrugged. "A colleague. Friend, caretaker, lover, husband. Who knows? Could be anything. He's hanging around her all the time."

"Handsome man." This time there was a spark of interest in the other person's voice. "Wonder what he sees in her?"

Once again, the watcher didn't answer as they both focused on the couple on the other side of the street. The unfolding scene had a certain tenderness to it, as the man helped the woman, who had been identified as Grace Foley, into the passenger seat of his car.

The couple exchanged a few words and a smile, the man rolling his eyes, before he pulled up Foley's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"Must be love," the watcher remarked.

His companion snorted derisively. "Love! I wonder what lover boy would think of her if he knew all about her..."

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><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	2. First Movement

A/N: First of all, thank you for your clear vote of interest. I hope this delivers *gets nervous*. We are moving into the first set, I guess oyu could say. And we meet a new character (and an old one). Many thanks go - once again - to ShadowSamurai83 for the betaing.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>First Movement<strong>

Spencer Jordan was annoyed. With the world in general and his current situation in particular. He didn't mind holding the fort 'for an hour or two', and since Boyd and he were on somewhat amicable terms again, it had become a lot easier to deal, but they'd been sitting here waiting for two hours longer than normal now.

He didn't even mind waiting per se; Boyd's reason for being absent today was valid enough, and the DAC had made it abundantly clear that he expected Spencer to jump in every time Boyd's absence 'for personal reasons' came into play.

The company was pleasant too, having a coffee and a chat with Eve and Kat after raiding Grace's biscuits supply.

No, what bothered Spencer was the fact that Boyd was overdue by at least two hours. Considering the man's insane attitude to work, it was a wonder that he had taken the time off, but where Grace was concerned, Boyd did things for reasons that reason couldn't explain.

The day held the possibility of bringing bad news for her; maybe it had, so it was - of course - possible that she and Boyd had taken a few hours to come to terms with the news. From the look of it, Eve and Kat thought so as well, but both their faces were beginning to tense. Every time Grace went for a check-up they were all tense, despite the fact that the last few had come back clear, keeping the profiler firmly on the path of remission.

So, it wasn't that either.

"They should have called by now," Kat ventured after yet another sip from her coffee. Paperwork had been ignored all afternoon, despite the fact that there was enough of it.

"Hmm." Both Eve and Spencer shrugged, thinking the same thing.

The room remained silent.

"We could call them," Kat tried again after a few minutes.

At first, both Eve and Spencer looked as if they wanted to clobber the younger woman for even suggesting it, but then both rushed to their mobile phones, on instinct dialling two familiar but different numbers.

However, the tense silence became more oppressive with each consecutive ring. Neither phone was answered. They both let it ring for a minute, then a minute and a half, but there was still no reply.

"They might need some time after the appointment, if it went bad..."

"...Or if it went well. It's hard on both of them, each check-up."

"And Boyd's worse than Grace with this," Kat chimed in again, adding a bit of levity to the moment. They all grinned or chuckled at it, but it wasn't entirely genuine.

None of them wanted to really contemplate what this meant. And work kept being firmly ignored.

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><p>When the phone finally rang, they were all so antsy that three grown people made a mad dash for the receiver. Spencer won, though it was only because he had the shortest trip. The two women glowered at him, though upon seeing his face change during the conversation and listening to his short answers, neither was sure they really wanted to be in his shoes.<p>

As he slowly and heavily placed the receiver back on the cradle, Spencer felt a lot older than he actually was. A look at the clock on the wall showed that Boyd and Grace were now three hours overdue. After the information he had just received, it was no wonder.

Rubbing a hand over his face he turned towards the other two.

"And?" Eve asked anxiously. "What did Boyd say?"

Spencer hesitated. "It...wasn't Boyd."

"Grace then. Come on, Spencer," Eve pushed.

Running his palm first over his hair, then over his face again, Spencer sighed. "That was traffic. They've found Boyd's car on the side of Nassington Road. The driver's door was open, but there was no driver, and no sign of the passenger either."

"What does that mean?" Kat could already guess what it meant, but she needed the spoken confirmation.

"They've identified it as Boyd's and found a few things that show he wasn't alone..."

"Grace?"

"Apparently, and because of the owner-ID they called here, before they called SOCO."

Eve was already half up and on the run towards the door. "What are we waiting for then?"

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><p>The road was shadowed by trees, quelling Spencer's idea that somewhere as close to Hampstead Heath as this place was, somebody had to have seen something. With a lump in his stomach, he remembered another kidnapping case, in this same green area, when nobody had seen anything. The turnout of that one... But he was getting ahead of himself, he scolded mentally. They didn't even know yet...<p>

The car stood indeed there, on first sight untouched and undamaged. The closer they got, however, there were obvious signs that this wasn't just an abandoned vehicle. The area was cordoned off, now driver's and passenger's door wide open. There were shards on the asphalt next to the passenger's door, which made the team swallow a little.

Flashing their IDs, they went in, Eve almost immediately crouching down to take a closer look at the debris on the floor, while Spencer and Kat shook hands with Matthews, the current officer in charge.

"Never thought I'd see the day when Boyd himself becomes a case," the sergeant joked sarcastically, but turned serious upon seeing the less than receptive faces. "The ACC says that Boyd's team should handle it, so I guess it's your case now."

Spencer didn't look pleased and Kat didn't give a much happier impression. "What can you tell us?"

"Jogger saw the car with the driver's door open. Didn't think much of it, but when it was still empty and nobody in sight upon his second round, came to check and then called it in. There's a woman's handbag in there, purse visible - they found that strange."

Nodding, Spencer gave a curt 'thank you' before turning to the scientist. "Eve?"

She shrugged as she looked up for a moment. "I need to do more tests to confirm it, but just from the colour of the shards, it looks like Boyd's mobile."

"Unusual; Boyd never really parts with it," Kat threw in.

"Just like it is unusual for Grace to leave her purse and handbag lying around in the open like this," Eve interrupted.

"So, what do you think, Eve?" Spencer asked to halt the quickly rising tempers. His own was heating up as well, his earlier thought becoming more and more pronounced.

"There's a bit blood on the ground, and the shards and the general dirt here have been disturbed in a way that I'd say there was at least a bit of a struggle." The scientist surveyed the area around her feet to avoid making eye contact.

"We're looking at a crime scene?" the DI asked, the words cloying in his throat. "Kidnapping?"

This time Eve looked up and gave him a grimace. "Not sure about the latter, but 99% positive on the first. Whatever happened to Boyd and Grace, this is the scene of a crime."

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><p>He wasn't a superstitious man, but Spencer was slowly getting a sense of dèja vu. How often had he sat in this office over the last months? And how many times with the same result? In the end, it was no wonder that CID let him go so quickly. He had never been there enough to be really considered a part of their operation.<p>

Now he was sitting here again, in Christie's office, which increased the sense of repetition, and was reporting their early findings. The DAC looked haggard and with an inwardly sarcastic smile, Spencer realized that he had always looked like that when he was in charge of CCU. Being responsible for their team wasn't a holiday.

The levity didn't last long as he monotonously reported their initial findings. "Dr. Lockhart found the shards from Boyd's mobile phone cover by the car and pieces of the destroyed phone body under the car and under the next..."

"...Deliberately destroyed?"

"Yes, sir. According to Dr. Lockhart, a lot of force had to be involved for this kind of damage. We don't think that Boyd dropped it during the struggle. However,..." At this Spencer stopped for a moment, not knowing how to word it. "...The attackers didn't take or destroy Dr. Foley's phone. It's still in the car, along with the rest of her things."

Christie gave him a long look. "Strange. Anything else?"

"Yes, Dr. Lockhart is giving all the blood splatters she found a check, but it looks as if it is Boyd's, and only his. We aren't through with anything else, so it's too early to call this conclusive."

"Any hints on who the target was? Just being in the wrong place at the wrong time sounds a bit too coincidental for me."

Spencer nodded in agreement with the DAC. The thought had come quickly to the team as well. "It does look like a focussed attack, a planned kidnapping..."

"Motive?"

The DI shrugged. "Everything, anything. If we just start with revenge, the list of suspects is very long. Boyd's made many enemies in his time on the job."

"Linda Cummings coming to mind," Christie interrupted, but stopped when he saw Spencer's face darken considerably.

"Linda Cummings is dead and buried. Sir."

"Yes," Christie said trying to dissolve the tension in the room. "Are we sure, though, that Boyd was the intended target? Not Dr. Foley?"

"It's...a possibility," Spencer haltingly replied.

Even though the DAC smiled briefly, both men cringed inwardly. They were all a little overprotective when it came to the profiler, but on a strictly professional level, both men knew that the job didn't get easier if you added psychopaths out for revenge on their therapist to the list of suspects. In addition to the staggering number of other options, of course.

There was a pause, then Christie turned serious again. "News travel fast today, DI Jordan, and the Home Office insists that CCU takes the case, because of your acquaintance with Dr. Foley. They are...eager...to have the case solved quickly and...successfully... So are we, obviously."

"Naturally," Spencer replied tightly. He still hadn't reconciled himself completely with his return to CCU, with what looked like the passing of his final chance to really make a career for himself. Staying with Boyd meant that promotion would - if at all - only come after Boyd's retirement. It didn't look like a likely event.

Besides, the intense interest Home Office was taking in the case bothered him. Grace had been threatened before and the Home Office hadn't even batted an eye. In fact, during and in the aftermath of Linda Cummings, they had been conspicuously absent in any gesture of understanding and support.

It had angered him then, annoyed him now that they wanted to jump in. Bloody politicos...

"...They insist you take her on as the psychologist on the case..."

Realizing he had missed the DAC's words, Spencer started then quickly interrupted, "Excuse me, sir? A fill-in psychologist on this? No!"

Christie drew back and gave him a curious look.

"Last time we had a fill-in, she almost got Grace killed! So, no! I'm not going to work with anybody on this, just because they have a PhD and supposedly a degree in psychology. We've managed cases without a psychologist, while Grace was on sick leave. We'll do it now as well!"

Getting up from his chair, Christie walked around the desk and took his time to give Spencer a hard look. "You didn't listen, DI Jordan. Home Office _insists!_ I agree with you that this is a political move, since this woman doesn't have training or experience as a profiler, but she might be able to give you more insight than anybody else...and maybe it is time for a few gestures too."

Ignoring the angry clouds forming over the DI's head, Christie almost smiled. He had his doubts as well, but Home Office desperately wanted to make a gesture, and considering how little they had done during and after the much-talked about encounter with Cummings, it was well overdue.

"Who then?" Spencer sounded flat, didn't bother to hide his displeasure.

" She arrives from her professional stint abroad later today. Her superiors will brief her on the basics and send her over to you." Seeing that his companion was not satisfied with the answer, Ralph Christie decided to just bite the bullet. "Dr. Georgina Foley."

Burying his face in his hands, Spencer barely swallowed his groan. Things had just gone from bad to worse.

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><p>They announced the approach to Heathrow over the tannoy and she automatically checked if her seatbelt was fastened. Naturally, it was. She didn't take unnecessary risks. It would be too stupid to have survived four months in the Kandahar region only to be killed by oversight on the flight from Frankfurt to London.<p>

She was looking forward to coming home. Falling into the hustle and bustle of London, feeling the dampness of fog on her skin after the dry desert heat and cold. She was looking forward to getting her hair done, her skin done, her nails...being a woman again and feeling like it.

After months of being Dr. Foley, of undefined sex, if possible, she was looking forward to that. And to Marmite and Philadelphia cream cheese and tea and real scones.

Maybe she could talk her mother into joining her for some fancy tea and shopping. Sort of a re-bonding experience.

Gina rolled her eyes at that. It would take a more than an afternoon of shopping and tea to bond with her mother again. Too much had happened, and too little at the same time. She had spent a lot of time finding a scapegoat - which was fairly easy to do - but in the end, and Afghanistan had a way of showing you that, it wasn't just black and white.

It wasn't just her mother's insane commitment to her work and...that man. And it wasn't just her own over-reaction that had led to the deterioration and fizzling out of their relationship. There were many things and many... A long history.

The plane rattled and jumped through the clouds, shaking through the forces of air and speed. It shook her out of the dark thoughts she was entertaining. It wasn't what she wanted.

If she was perfectly honest, Dr. Georgina Foley really wanted nothing more than rushing into Mummy's arms at the airport and being cuddled and soothed until no more bad thoughts could enter her mind.

Alas, she thought with a sarcastic snort, this was as close to happening as hell freezing over.

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><p>It was dark, pitch black in fact, as she woke up. Momentarily disoriented, she moved her hands over the closest area, feeling smooth and soft sheets around her. Apparently, nobody had been interested in shoving the harshness of her situation right into her face. Not yet, at least.<p>

Further checks showed that she was on a bed of some sort, a single one. Except her own breathing and the rustle of the sheets when she moved, there was absolutely no other noise in the room. Quiet sounds of smooth ventilation, but no street noise that pointed to a window - nothing.

As far as her rational thought process still worked and wasn't taken over by fear, Grace knew that this wasn't a good sign. She hadn't been alone, she remembered.

Tentatively, she called out, "Boyd?"

There was no answer.

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><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	3. Andante

A/N: Once again, thank you for your vote of interest - aka reviews. I'm glad that you like it so far. I hope the story stays up to par. As for the impatient amongst you - confusion is the reward for your impatience. Many thanks go out to **ShadowSamurai83** for the beta and the constant encouragement!

Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter III - Andante<strong>

She eyed the man detachedly, feeling his nervousness like the air that filled the office. Home Office had been looking for a victim to break the unpleasant news, whatever it was. Why they had chosen the Armed Forces liaison officer to inform her was a mystery, or yet another case of weak situation handling.

Right at the arrival gate, she had been accosted by two officers, who escorted her to the office she was currently in. In an unmarked government car. Under different circumstances, this would have made her nervous, now it amused her. To a point.

It was bad news, otherwise the effort would have been much smaller. The thought made her inwardly feel cold. There weren't many things for which Home Office went to such length. In fact, it was only three options: either her mother or her brother were in peril, or they wanted her to return to Afghanistan.

None of these options appealed to her, Gina decided. She couldn't decide, though, which of them frightened her the most.

The inane small talk her companion insisted upon to prolong the inevitable made it even worse.

"Colonel Fahey, sir," she interrupted the man with a hopefully sincere smile. "With all due respect, I am grateful for the compliments, but I doubt this is a social call. What is the matter?"

"Straight to the point, Dr. Foley, I appreciate that." In fact, he didn't at all. He wanted to get out of this job this very second.

In reply, Gina nodded politely, hoping that this would trigger an actual exchange of information.

Fahey delayed, though. In a seemingly off-hand comment that was anything but he addressed her. "Psychology runs in your family, does it not?" he asked, flitting through papers on his desk.

Inwardly Gina grimaced and swallowed the harsh reply. Everybody in bloody Home Office knew that psychology ran in her family. "Both my mother and my brother hold degrees, yes."

"Grace Foley, right? One of our best criminal profilers, I've heard." Fahey smiled, jovially he believed. As there was no reaction, he became serious again. "Profiling isn't your field of expertise..."

Gina didn't answer, her mind going off on a tangent. How often had she heard that line? How often had she cursed herself for not using her father's name on the job? Back then it had seemed silly, now it was a constant pain.

The Colonel coughed, shaking her out of her thoughts, and from the look on his face, she knew that he'd finally get down to business. Unfortunately, and his expression was easy to read, she wasn't going to like it.

"Well,..." Again Fahey smiled and it was at this point that Gina squeezed the armrests of her chair. She was tired, exhausted, frustrated and the sense of foreboding in her stomach was growing to an acid knot. A frown was beginning to settle on her face as she gave the officer an intense look.

"It seems as if you are about to make profiling your field, Dr. Foley." He took a deep breath. "Metropolitan Police has made a very urgent request for your expertise. You are to report immediately to the office of a special unit to help with a case."

The burning in her stomach spread. If she could have, Gina would have yelled at the man to leave her alone with what the Met wanted or not. If she could have, she would have gotten up and left, not bothering with what the Met needed or wanted. She did neither.

"What kind of case?" she asked carefully, her body tensing up in anticipation.

Fahey checked his notes, even though he knew the name by heart.

"It's a kidnapping case, apparently. Two members of this unit..."

"Which unit, sir?"

As Fahey looked up, he noted the paleness of the woman across his desk. Without trying, he could see what was going on in her head. She already guessed, if not knew, what he would say.

"The Cold Case Unit. A DI Jordan expects you."

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><p>They sat around the desks, staring at the few pieces of knowledge they already had. It wasn't much. Boyd's abandoned car at Hampstead Heath. His phone smashed by the car, splatters of blood, so far all identified as his. Grace's belongings apparently complete and still in the car. No eye-witnesses. At least, they hadn't found any yet who had seen a silver-haired man and a blond woman near an Audi.<p>

The nearest surveillance camera was at least 200yrds away and the chance to get anything from it was slim. It was the only thing they had, but they weren't hopeful.

Though Spencer had bristled, Kat had put up pictures of both Grace and Boyd, claiming that they always did that. Of course, they did, but Spencer didn't feel comfortable with it. Apart from having to look at the pictures constantly and feeling the extra pressure, it also reminded him that they had zip in terms of an idea.

"If she weren't dead, my first and foremost thought would be Linda Cummings," Eve ventured out to say the most obvious.

"Not exactly her M.O., though, isn't it? Too crude, too simple," Spencer shot back.

"Maybe it's somebody from her...I don't know..." Kat broke off, realizing she didn't have any idea how to continue. "She had the biggest grudge against Boyd and didn't hesitate to use anything against him. Even Grace."

They were silent, contemplating the truth of that statement. Three faces darkened in memory of the moment when suddenly, it had been Grace's face on that phone screen - helpless and bound, at the mercy of...that woman.

"I've been told that my expertise is requested here." A new voice broke into the gloom, but didn't exactly lift the spirits. Though Eve smiled, somewhat shakily, Spencer's frown deepened. Kat could only guess that the newcomer was Georgina Foley, though she wouldn't have believed it.

On first sight there was little resemblance between mother and daughter, though on second thought, there was something at least - a similarity in how they moved. Vastly different though was the aura that surrounded Georgina Foley, lacking the warmth and gentle humour Kat was used to from Grace. Where Grace was relaxed and carried with her a hint of mischief, her daughter was tense und brusque. Actually, she did remind Kat of Boyd when things weren't going his way, which was a very strange thought in itself.

"Home Office told you then?" Spencer started, though it sounded a lot harsher than he might have intended.

"Armed Forces liaison officer told me that my 'help' was requested to solve a kidnapping case within your unit," Gina replied curtly. If Jordan wanted to play nasty, then she'd do it too.

It was, she knew, a coping mechanism. The entire taxi ride from Marsham Street her mind had been in overdrive trying to deal with the meagre information. Going in circles she had always come to the same conclusion - one of the kidnapped unit members had to be her mother. Home Office wouldn't have made the effort otherwise.

The thought had been like an acidic glove closing around her heart and squeezing. They weren't close any more - her fault, her mother's too - but if something went wrong there was no chance to possibly reconcile, they'd never be able to kiss and make up. All the way the thought had hammered into her skull: What if she dies? What if...?

"No details?" Eve asked much more gently.

Gina gave her a long look, a resigned smile flitting around the corners of her mouth. "He's sitting here,..." She pointed to Spencer. "...She's sitting here..." She pointed to Kat. "...And you are here. Unless the number of team members has dramatically increased lately, that leaves only Boyd and my mother missing." She paused while she slowly walked towards the board, looking at the information written up there. Her back was to the others as she hoped to regain some more control. There was a picture of her mother from her service record, fairly recent from the looks of it.

The pause grew longer.

"Gina?"

She swallowed. "She looks different."

"Cancer does that to you, you know..." Spencer's ire rose. Grace was special to him, to all of them, and her encounter with that illness had pulled at his heartstrings. To see her going through it almost alone... "The hospital and that psycho, and she had to deal with it alone while her children ran around somewhere in the sun."

On her seat, Eve cringed. Even without being a very perceptive person, she knew that Spencer's accusations wouldn't go down smoothly. Gina looked exhausted as it was and with the news dropped on her like this, she was probably not at her most compromising. Relations between Gina and the team had always been strained for some reason or the other. Accusations like this would poison the atmosphere even more.

Caught up in the picture before her, it took a moment before Spencer's words permeated the thoughts in Gina's mind. But then she slowly turned, her expression a mix of confusion. "Cancer?"

Spencer only glared, but didn't answer.

From a professional point of view, it was easy to see that the DI had a problem and Gina knew enough of her job to acknowledge it. On a personal level, however, she had been travelling for four days, basically been nicked right from the airport only to be condescendingly fed vague half information that came down to the fact that her mother had been kidnapped, and she was supposed to solve the problem. She was tired, she was hungry and quite frankly, she was beginning to get cranky. Dealing with Spencer Jordan in holier-than-thou-mode was the last on her list of things to do.

"Do you have a problem?" she asked, half confused, half annoyed.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do!" Spencer shot back, jumping to his feet. He towered over her by several inches, but the physical advantage wasn't working at all. "Grace was in hospital for weeks during her treatment, but you and your precious brother didn't bother to come visit once! You didn't even call!"

Gina shook her head in confusion and shock. What Spencer was saying sounded unbelievable. Granted, they hadn't talked that often and regularly, her mother being busy, her being busy, but surely, her mother would have told her about something as big as cancer? How could she haven't? How could it have been that they didn't know?

"What are you saying?" she asked curtly, hoping it hid the tremor in her voice.

Spencer was under full steam, his annoyance with the Met command, this situation and the worry for Boyd and Grace needing to get out. "We cared for her while she was ill!" he growled. "We are more Grace's family than her own children are! We don't need you here! You won't help anyway! You..."

He didn't get any further, because he was speaking to thin air. Gina turned and marched out of the office without a look back.

Watching the scene, Eve and Kat exchanged a glance that turned into eye-rolling at the retreating female back and the male sulk.

* * *

><p>Since Spencer was still sulking, Eve had gone back to the lab, trying to get more out of Grace's handbag, and the fibres she had picked up from the scene. The car would be towed in later for further perusal, but at the moment she was stuck waiting for analysis-results.<p>

Leaning against a wall, she inhaled from her cigarette, willing the machines to work faster. The sooner they got results the sooner they would have them both back. It was funny that she missed Boyd almost as much as Grace.

"Can't believe they allow you to smoke in here."

"Hey Gina," Eve replied with a grin, but didn't stub out her cigarette. "They wouldn't dare."

"They can't do without you, so they cut you some..."

Eve chuckled. "It helps being indispensable. And it helps being a little out of the way."

"I guess distance is the best thing when Boyd starts shouting," Gina quietly said while she wandered around and finally sat down on a lab chair. "Spencer is beginning to take a leaf out of his book. Bloody bugger!"

"You two just rub each other the wrong way."

Snorting Gina shook her head. "You can say that again. That chip on his shoulder is getting bigger every time I meet him. Almost rivals Boyd's now. Who does he think he is anyway? Because Boyd's away he gets a right to be a condescending bastard to fully replace the boss?"

Stubbing her cigarette out, Eve moved away from the wall, over to her laptop. "He's worried about them. When Spence gets emotional, he becomes self-righteous. Especially when he's worried about your Mum." She smiled. "It's been like this as long as I know them. Grace brings out the protectiveness in Spencer and in Boyd, and they become even bigger bears than usual."

"Yeah." It wasn't much of an answer, as Gina wibbled around on her chair, unsure of what to say. For a while she fixed her gaze firmly onto the floor, but then made eye contact. Looking at the scientist for a full minute, she finally shrugged her shoulders resignedly. "Mum never said anything. It must have been weeks, months, and she never said a thing."

"She didn't tell anybody. I just read the signs correctly. They were the same as my Mum's," Eve replied, trying to be soothing.

Gina looked at her with a sad expression and swallowed several times. In fact, it looked like she was close to tears. "You know, we talked, on the phone, and in person too. Not often,..." She shrugged again, now embarrassed. "...A lot less often than we should have, but she never said anything, we never noticed. Embarrassing, isn't it? Chris and I don't even notice that our mother is battling cancer."

"She didn't want you to know, kept it a secret really. Didn't want a fuss, she told Boyd when he visited her." With a fond smile, Eve remembered the tense situation in that tower room - an annoyed and anguished Boyd trying to get a hold of their profiler and being unsuccessful. His reaction when she finally confessed had been so incredibly obvious, the expression of fear so unusual on Boyd that it would stay with her forever.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

With a shrug, Gina looked at her. "It's always about Boyd, isn't it? This thing now too. Somebody wants revenge on Boyd and kidnaps Mum. It always comes down to Boyd."

Not having an answer to that, Eve shrugged.

* * *

><p>They went to the scene again, to let Gina take a look. The car was just about to be towed in so that Eve could go over it again with a fine-toothed comb. Most other evidence had already been taken in, or would sooner or later be washed away by wind and rain.<p>

The excursion didn't offer much, except seeing it again and getting a feel for the scene.

"Strange to think that they could have been abducted without being seen in broad daylight in such a busy place," Kat offered as they once again sat in the office.

"It was a normal work day, between ten and lunch hour, so there weren't many people out and about in the area. I don't think Boyd or Grace were particularly eager to have a lot of company, so they chose a quieter area of the Heath. It's not unlikely that nobody took notice." Spencer wasn't as surprised. "Besides, if they could take on Grace and Boyd at the same time, I'd wager that they came prepared."

"But it looks like Boyd sort of played the hero...again." Eve smirked a little at the idea, despite the fact that it wasn't really funny. Grace always inspired their protectiveness.

"You mean...," Gina spoke up from her place in the back where she had settled to look at the board. "...The target wasn't Boyd, but my mother?"

"We've had the idea, yes," Spencer replied without the previous aggression. They had had a few quiet words before going to the scene and it looked like an apology had been involved. At least the tone was more civil now. "Boyd has made enemies, but so has Grace." For a moment the memory of another case popped into his mind, but he quickly dismissed it again. Best not dwell on that one.

"But if Mother was the target, wouldn't it have been better they'd have waited to catch her alone? At the house, on her way to work or the supermarket? Why grab her when she was in an open space with somebody - a man, no less - to protect her?"

Gina had a point, they all knew that.

"The same would go the other way around. If just Boyd was the target, why take Grace along as well?" Kat said, following the thought.

Thoughtfully, Eve tapped a pen against her chin. "True, but you know Boyd's attitude. If they dangle Grace's safety before him, he's much more likely to cooperate. That's why Linda Cummings went after her and not him directly..."

From her place, Gina looked as if she wanted to say something, anything. Her mother had glossed over many details of the 'Linda Cummings-disaster', many more than she previously thought, just spoken of a case going wrong. In typical fashion, she had held back not to worry her children. Or excluding them, Gina wasn't sure which.

* * *

><p>He had come to in a dark room. It wasn't completely black, but the one spotlight in the ceiling was so small and had so little power that its light barely reached the floor. From his place on the mattress and with his head pounding painfully, he couldn't make out much, but it was obvious that the room was empty, except for a mattress on the floor on which he was lying. There was no other furniture, just signs of some basic...hygienic facilities.<p>

That didn't interest him beyond the acknowledgement of their existence, more important was the quick realization that there would be no easy way out of this room. There was also no sign that he was anywhere near civilization.

The other thing that he noticed quickly was the fact that he was alone. He hadn't been alone when...

"Grace?" he called out. Once, twice, three times, four... Each time his voice became louder and each time, he felt more desperate in calling.

The answer was always the same. There was none.

If she was anywhere near, she either couldn't hear him, or she couldn't answer. Boyd didn't stop to decide which was worse.

In a fit of anger, aggression, desperation - who cared what it was - he jumped up from his place, swaying on his feet for a moment as vertigo caught him, and marched to the door. Banging against it with his fists, he yelled, "Open that door! Open that bloody door!"

Naturally, there was no answer.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	4. Scherzo

A/N: Thank you again for the kind reviews. I'm glad you enjoy...and I'm a tad bit amused by the ideas you have...didn't think that far myself. Anyway, this is the next one and once again, I really, really want to thank ShadowSamurai83 for the work and the constant encouragement. It helps so much.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter III - Scherzo<strong>

"What did really happen with Linda Cummings?" Gina asked after about half an hour of idle theorizing. "Mum never really went into detail about it, only that it was a case that went wrong."

"Boyd was the one to catch her to begin with, so she decided to make him her counterpart in a chess match about life and death." Eve was pale as she replied. Spencer didn't look much better, and neither did Kat. "From prison she began to bait Boyd with snippets about his son's death..."

"To make a long story short, Cummings had...sort of...a mole in here. Grace's replacement gave her information...told her which hospital Grace was in," the pathologist continued.

The question was on the tip of her tongue, but Gina swallowed it.

"Cummings kidnapped Grace and used her as a bargaining chip; the death of his son's murderer against Grace's life."

"But Cummings is dead now?"

"Yeah," Spencer answered shortly, his heart still hammering in his chest at the memory. Generally, he avoided any reminder of Cummings, the warehouse, the image of Grace being tied to that chair, but it was no use. The nightmares never really went away.

"So, why do you suspect her then? She was working alone, wasn't she?"

"Except those she coerced, yes. But if this is about revenge...," Kat answered.

Gina nodded, picking up the train of thought. "You mean, somebody from her family..."

"...Or a lover..."

"...Might want to take revenge on the man who is supposedly responsible for her death."

Eve nodded. "That was our idea, yes. Cummings made her hunt for Boyd very personal, and it isn't a big secret that Boyd and Grace are close."

Gina grimaced at that, but nodded. "What's the alternative to Linda Cummings?"

The team chuckled mirthlessly and then shrugged. "Anybody anywhere. Without any clue to go by, it will be wild guessing. We have to wait for a ransom call or note and see, if Grace or Boyd left such a clue lying around."

"Do we even have a guesstimate on the numbers?" Gina snorted. For a moment they all chuckled as they imagined where they'd get to with that.

"I guess our only option is to start looking for the clues then," Kat muttered after a while.

* * *

><p>It was an eerie feeling to enter the house where she had spent her childhood without her mother being there. Once you were grown up and moved out, it was always a little ambivalent to be back. Still, the first thing she noticed was the clutter, a bag hanging here, a few knick knacks lying there, the study area in the back looking a bit chaotic. Typical...<p>

"I'm not sure what you think we'll find here," Gina finally said with a melancholy sigh. "I don't think the kidnappers were in here. And I don't know what to look for. It's all like it's always been, but this isn't my home any more, it's just Mum's."

"You okay?" Eve asked gently, placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

The tremulous smile said it all and yet nothing.

They tentatively stepped further into the house, the overhead lights giving the rooms a warm glow. There were files open on the desk, two used tea mugs in the sink, along with two plates and cutlery. Gina saw it, but didn't comment on it. The team didn't either, wondering if they'd find further 'incriminating evidence' upstairs.

Slowly making their way into the living room, they noticed more papers out, littering the coffee table. There were files again, notes, letters, papers filled with Grace's handwriting. They crept closer, careful not to disturb anything, in case this would have to be evidence. There were photos, photo albums open at various places, and Gina noted with a pang how they showed happier times, older times.

Taking a deep breath, she looked away for a moment, trying to compose herself. If there was one thing, both Gina and her brother had been raised to, it was not to snoop. Doing it now, even for a good cause, gave her an unpleasant feeling. Still, she took the step closer, moved between sofa and table to take a closer look.

The slip of paper lay there, as if it had been waiting to be found.

_"I know what you've done, Grace!"_

* * *

><p>There was a stack of files on each desk. It was only a small share of the actual number they'd have to go through. On their computers, search masks were running mad, finding any files that referred to Grace Foley. From the time it took the machines, the number was extensive.<p>

"I can't believe, it's so many," Kat sighed as she leaned back in her desk chair.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes glued to the computer screen where he was cross-referencing to see which files might be of bigger interest than others. "She's been at it for decades. Just those cases she was directly involved with number in the thousands."

"I know that, but how do we determine which are of real interest? In some she was only consulted via telephone," Kat grumbled again.

"If somebody holds a grudge against Grace, it could come from just having talked to her once," the DI ordered through clenched teeth. The women noticed his tense reaction, all three of them on the verge of asking what was going on, but wisely decided against it. Spencer was grateful for it. While he rarely overlooked any shortcomings of Boyd's or Stella or Mel or even Kat, Grace was a different matter. At least in his mind, she could hardly do anything that would make anybody rightfully act against her. That bastard Hoyle, all those years ago, for example...

"Kat is right, you know," Eve said after a while, having read through two more files. "We are looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. There are a few thousand files which include Grace's name."

"Got a better idea?" Spencer shot back.

The scientist shook her head and was silent for a few minutes. Then she spoke up again, noting how Spencer's shoulders grew tenser by the second. Something was bothering the DI and there was a lot more to it than just worry. "I wonder for whom the second plate and mug was."

"Boyd, I'd assume," Kat supplied, her expression a mix of nausea and amusement.

Eve nodded again, her grin a whole lot more comfortable. "Don't you think that she'd have shown it to him? Or at least told him about it?"

"Yes," Gina interjected, picking up where the scientist was going. "And knowing Boyd..." She grimaced.

"He would have gone and started looking into it right away."

"Unless she only told him today," Spencer interrupted. "Or only got it today."

"And then they are abducted barely four hours later?" Eve shook her head. "I'm sure the note and the abduction are connected, so Grace had it for at least a day, if not longer."

"Did Boyd usually go with her when she had a doctor's appointment?" Gina asked.

"Not really. He made a point of being around when she was done with it. Took her to dinner, or we all went."

"So, if he was with her all day, it would point to her expecting bad news or..."

They got up as one, marching towards the door.

"If he knew we are going through his things, he'd kill us," Spencer muttered darkly.

* * *

><p>Even though she had turned on almost every light in the house, it still felt claustrophobic and dark. She wandered the rooms, stood by the window to stare into the night, then back into the room. She turned on the radio, the TV and turned them off again - both fascinated by the channels she found and yet feeling like an intruder. She looked for the additions to CD, DVD and book collections and felt like she was spying.<p>

She had made tea, checked the fridge - which was fully stocked and apparently stocked for at least two people - and then drew a blank at what to do with the offered food.

So back she wandered into the living room, being forcefully reminded why it was just a major mess.

Falling into the arm chair by the wall, Gina surveyed the room, the clutter that was so her mother and then threw herself deeper into the chair with a groan.

They had 'visited' Boyd's house and if she felt uncomfortable in her mother's, then Boyd's place was even worse. Sparse mostly, but there were clothes strewn around, carelessly dropped. There were few personal things, a few photographs only, books, DVDs, CDs - things that told a person's story without revealing anything.

She had carefully hung back, trying not to interfere with the police officer's work, but at the same time, Gina had been immensely curious. Boyd had never been her favourite person, but the team was convinced that he was a changed man with her mother, and now she was greedy for a sign that showed them to be right.

There were two photographs of the team, one when Mel was still alive, the other with Stella, and it struck her how much it looked like a family unit both times. There was a photograph of what she assumed was Boyd's late son, having received a place of honour, right next to...

"Where was that taken?"

"I took it when we all went for dinner after Grace received the all-clear," Eve said before going back to the papers she was leafing through.

Gina nodded, but didn't comment further as she put the photo back down.

Aimlessly she wandered over to the couch and sat down at its very edge. The book on the end table caught her eye and as she picked it up, she gave a snort.

"What?" Spencer asked.

Wordlessly, Gina held up the book, then turned it around to show the author's picture on the back cover. "I didn't know he was that interested."

The team chuckled. "Or bored," Kat supplied.

"_'The Creation of Murder Scenes - A Psychological Approach'_ by Grace Foley," Gina read aloud. Then, shaking her head, she opened the book randomly, curious where exactly Boyd had read. The book looked used which surprised her. As far as she knew, Boyd had always made a big deal out of not giving a damn about the psychological side of things.

From her position, she watched the team go about their jobs, before turning back to the book. A piece of paper, probably the bookmark, caught her attention. More out of boredom than real interest Gina pulled it out and unfolded it.

"Spence?" she suddenly shouted, her hands beginning to shake.

"_Women are inscrutable creatures. Do you know who she is? What she's done?_"

* * *

><p>Even though they had intensified their search of Boyd's place, it had brought up nothing. There wasn't even incriminating evidence towards a more personal relationship between Boyd and her mother. No women's clothes, no additional tooth brush. Nothing.<p>

Gina wasn't sure what she had expected, she didn't even know if she had expected anything. It was as if she was looking at the lives of strangers. Yet one of them was her mother. It was strange really, all those days and nights in Afghanistan, when she'd had a few minutes to herself, her thoughts had gone to her brother, on a dig in central Peru, and to her mother whom she'd deemed being the safest of them all.

The cosy office and a shouty but protective DSI... If there was one thing Gina and her brother had trusted in, it was that Boyd would look after their mother. As little as she actually liked him, that seemed to be a certainty.

But now...?

Woodenly, Gina got up from the armchair and wandered further into the living room. Settling down onto the sofa, she picked up one of the photo albums and mindlessly looked at pictures. They were old, really old. The first years of her parents' marriage, even a few before that. With a smile, Gina noted how young they'd looked, how cheesy the early 80s fashion had been. Her father's suit. The dresses.

As she pulled the next album off the table, a few photographs tumbled down onto the floor.

Looking through them, Gina couldn't help but notice a man she'd never seen before.

* * *

><p>At least she was kept fed and watered as the saying went. Whoever held her captive didn't plan on abandoning her. On a professional level this raised quite a few questions. On a personal level, Grace was glad that she wasn't left to rot and be forgotten.<p>

Still, if she was taken care of like this, it also meant that her captor still had plans for her. That fact, however, made her uneasy.

Turning away from the door that only opened for a try being shoved in, she took comfort in the fact that this way her captor couldn't see her face. It was only a small thing, but she was sure she was being watched.

She'd been left alone for a long time now, couldn't say if it had been hours or days or even weeks already. Only the number of trays indicated that it was an extended time.

That also made her worry about Boyd. Where was he? Was he still alive? Healthy? Anywhere near?

It had been a long time ago and Grace vividly remembered saying more than once that she 'used to be' a Catholic, but now and in this situation, praying seemed like the best thing to do.

Her mind going through the words and rites, at first she didn't even realize the sound behind her. However, when the scrape turned louder, she shot around on the bed and stared with fascination at the opening in the wall that was the door.

The next moment something big and heavy was thrown into the room and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Even without a closer look, Grace's hand went to her mouth. In a flash, she shot off the bed, swallowing down the dizziness that befell her and knelt next to the body that had been unceremoniously dumped inside.

* * *

><p>Its identity was out of question.<p>

From outside, through the door that also served as a one-way window, a person watched the action inside the 'prison cell' with keen interest.

* * *

><p>Thank you very much for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	5. Allegro, lively

A/N: Thank you again for the kind reviews and...erm...sorry for the cliffhanger. I was trained on soaps and those only live through cliffhangers. So, more is here and with it the return of a previously seen OC. Many, many thanks go to ShadowSamurai83 for the beta and the encouragement, the snickers - and yes, they shall cut down that tree with a herring. Just sayin'.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IV - allegro, lively<strong>

It started out as one of those mornings when no amount of caffeine and nicotine can make the world go right. Eve knew that some people would contest the idea that nicotine or caffeine could even remotely make the world go more right, instead of killing you, but to her they were bread and butter.

This morning, however, nothing could alleviate the frustration.

Realistically, neither of the typed notes offered much in terms of forensics. Standard paper, to be bought in pretty much every supermarket and stationary shop, standard generic ink to fit a Canon printer. Despite the variety that suggested, there were still several ten thousand printers fitting.

So far she had only identified Boyd and Grace's finger prints, which at least solved that question. Tests also showed that the ink had been on that paper for at least a week.

That, however, was it.

Even though she was still going over both checking for any kind of particle, she wasn't hopeful. If there were still any left from the sender, they were mostly buried under the small traces of the receivers' homes.

The notes were a dead end.

With yet another - her fourth - coffee in hand, Eve relayed the information to the rest of the team.

Kat looked resigned. Spencer angry. And Gina was...uneasy...antsy. Even though she hadn't said anything, something had apparently come up.

"So, unless were are talking about an astronomic coincidence or a red herring, Linda Cummings is off the list then." It was after a while of uneasy silence that Kat spoke. "I mean, it's still possible, but if somebody was and is accusing Grace, then Cummings seems unlikely."

Spencer nodded. "And good riddance," he ground out. "Still leaves us wide open to anybody else, basically. Anybody who thinks Grace mistreated them or was vital in sending them to jail..."

"...Or keeping them there."

"Yeah."

Eyeing the piles of files with disdain, Kat shrugged. "That's still a damn big load of possibilities." She waited for a while, looking at the others. "Maybe we should start with those where complaints were lodged against Grace? Those who made the biggest fuss about her involvement?"

"Did that before...turned out to be a dead end too," Spencer quietly interrupted.

There was something about the way he said it that made the women take notice. His expression had darkened yet again and the tension grown in his body.

"Was that the...what was his name? The finger-thing. That psychologist-colleague of Grace's who copied the MO of his lover?" Eve interrupted, and even though she still managed to somehow appear calm, there was excitement in her voice. "What was his name?"

Spencer didn't answer.

The women looked at him, surprised by his silence. "Spence?"

"Tony Green." He finally pressed out. "The copier was Hoyle. Dr. Charles Hoyle." His disgust almost flooded the office. "Almost got them both killed too. Grace and Boyd. And that boy, Kevin. Cut several of his fingers off."

They were silent for a moment, all of them swallowing a hint of nausea.

"Nice," Gina finally said. "How did Mum relate to all that?"

Even though he answered, Spencer's reluctance couldn't be missed and as anxious as she was, Gina didn't react patiently to it. "Spencer!"

"Tony Green was Grace's first case for the Met. Hoyle thought that she and the police officer running the case had framed Green. Forced a confession. So he wanted to get his lover out of prison and have Grace take the fall for her failures."

"But Green was guilty?"

"Yeah," Spencer nodded.

"So, there was no mistake on Mum's side?"

"No."

"How did Hoyle get the idea then?"

"Look...Hoyle was the prison counsellor for Green and a few others who'd been caught by the same officer as Green. They claimed that he had framed them using Grace's psychological assessment..."

"...Even though she didn't work the case..." Eve interjected.

"Yeah."

They were silent yet again, before Eve spoke up. "So, faked psychological assessments in Grace's name were used in at least one other case."

"Which makes it possible that it happened again." It was Kat who interrupted. Gina, on the other hand, kept suspiciously quiet throughout the exchange. "Going through all those files too...it will take forever."

"Who is that officer, Spencer?" Gina finally spoke and judging from the look on her face something was churning hotly beneath the surface.

"Was," Spencer replied. "He died in 82." There was a certain amount of...satisfaction in the words that wasn't missed by anybody.

"His name, Spencer?"

"DS Harry Taylor."

* * *

><p>If the morning had been crap, the rest of the day certainly didn't make up for it. Once again, Spencer found himself in Christie's office, this time with a request which he didn't like voicing and he knew Christie wouldn't like granting.<p>

If he could have had his way, Harry Taylor was well and truly buried and should remain so forever. He definitely had no interest in opening up that particular can of worms again. Maybe that was the shortcoming of keeping things quiet. The ladies had been eager to go down the Harry Taylor-route, to 'at least round it up' and he had had little to say against it without disclosing things. Granted, he'd never known all the details, but he'd picked up enough hints to get the idea.

He wasn't sure how much Grace had ever shared with her family about her past, but he doubted she had gone into detail. The fact that Gina didn't even know the particulars of the Hoyle-case...

"What can I do for you, DI Jordan?" DAC Christie asked quietly. It was for show, he knew that. The kidnapping had been barely more than a day ago, but the lack of ransom calls didn't bode well. If Jordan was back, something was afoot and judging from the man's fidgeting, he didn't expect to like it.

Spencer drew himself up in his chair, trying to look as professional during his request as possible. The less anybody could suspect personal involvement the better. "Sir, to round up our investigations we'd like to cross-reference all cases of a police officer Dr. Foley has been associated with in the past."

Without hearing the name, Christie could visualize the rest of the conversation. Trying to prolong the inevitable, he asked instead, "Are you focussing on Dr. Foley having been the intended target now?"

Recognising the tactics for what they were, Spencer nodded. "Yes. Unless we are dealing with a big coincidence, Dr. Foley was the intended victim. Boyd might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time, or he was taken along to avoid witnesses, but it looks unlikely. We've found threatening notes that point to an act of revenge against Dr. Foley."

"And you think, it might be a repeat performance of the Hoyle/Greene-case?"

"At least there might be similarities; and we have to rule out that somebody is copying Hoyle's scheme."

The secretary came in with two coffees, giving both officers a few moments to contemplate the situation. Once they were alone again, Christie leaned forward in a show of quiet agreement. "You know, that the Met doesn't like to drag their dead officers through the mud, but between us, Harry Taylor has become an embarrassment for the force. The Hoyle/Greene-case was only the beginning of irregularities in his cases rearing their ugly head."

Spencer nodded. "We don't plan on reinvestigating his cases, sir." His expression showed clearly that he'd rather not touch those with a ten-foot-pole. Christie nodded with a small smile. "We want to confirm that he didn't use Grace's expertise on other cases without her knowledge, like he did in the Terry Healy-case."

"Good. Do that, but make sure you don't cause too much noise with it."

"Of course, sir."

As Spencer made to get up, the DAC gestured him to remain seated. "There's something else why I said this so specifically, DI Jordan."

"Sir?"

"I don't know how much you know about the situation with Harry Taylor back then... The inquiry, his...death..."

Spencer didn't reply, only indicated with a nod that he was aware of it.

"His...team...covered it up to save Taylor's widow and children the full pension. But that was a long time ago. Taylor's children are grown up now."

"Yes, sir." At this point, Spencer was confused. Did Christie want to indicate that they should look into personal revenge? Why should Taylor's family take revenge on Grace? That was completely absurd.

"One of Taylor's sons joined the force a few years ago. He's a DS at CID. Maybe you met him there..."

"Can't say I did, sir."

"Well, the thing is, DS Taylor requested a transfer to CCU...twice. The last time to become your replacement. It was denied for several reasons..."

* * *

><p>She did want another coffee, but even more than that she wanted a cigarette. It was just one of those days and it wasn't over by a long shot. With the tension running so high, there would probably be arguments before the day was out. Considering that she was not getting anywhere with the prints and particles, Eve didn't doubt that she might do some of the shouting.<p>

It seemed downright impossible that the person who'd send the notes was not on any database. Surely, somebody with a grudge against Grace...

The door was swinging in its hinges, making her look up from her microscope. Kat was the first and if there was something that Eve admired, it was the young DS' calmness. She was the only one able to look at the situation with professional detachment. On the other hand, she was still new and not as close as the rest.

Behind Kat, Gina slowly wandered in, deep in thought. Something had been bothering the therapist for a while now and Eve, though she'd protest loudly, being a fairly good people reader knew that Gina's thoughts were circling around the information on Harry Taylor.

In the morning it had been nothing but curiosity, but now she was onto something and she knew it. Thus, it didn't come as a surprise that she sat down and after a few moments, gave the scientist a long look. "What do you know about Harry Taylor, Eve?"

Eve shrugged and heaved a big sigh. She wasn't sure it was her place to answer, but Spencer had made it clear that he wouldn't and there was nobody else. "I don't know much," she ventured after a while. "And that's a fact. I wasn't part of the team then."

"But you have an idea...?"

"It's more hearsay than anything else. They never talked much about it. Not even Stella. And,..." She paused, not sure how to phrase it. "...The Met kept a lot of it under wraps. Mostly to keep Taylor's reputation intact, I think."

"But that's not it, is it? Not what has Spencer so worked up."

"He's always very protective of your Mum," Kat quietly butted in. "He was almost as worried as Boyd during Linda Cummings... And if Grace was kidnapped or something back then too..."

"I knew Charles Hoyle, you know. He came around at times, for get-togethers Mum had with other psychologists. I never thought he'd go off on one like this," Gina said thoughtfully. "But that's hardly all, is it?"

"I don't know." Eve really didn't. Like Gina she had the feeling that there was something else underneath the certainly traumatic experience. "It's horrible when your professional ability is so drastically questioned. And, I mean, Grace must have felt responsible...guilty even for endangering that young man. The emotional pressure..."

"No!" Gina shook her head. "In this profession that's exactly what you are trained for, to detach yourself emotionally. Mum has been in this job for so long, she's a master at it." There was a small smile. "Actually, she always was..."

"But sometimes a case just gets to you..." Kat felt the need to defend their profiler. It sounded heartless, especially from her own daughter.

Gina gave her a look and then smiled. "Yes, I know. I'm not saying that Mum is super human and above all that. That's an even bigger professional asset of hers." Her smile widened into a proud grin for a moment. Then she became serious again. "I'm not saying all that isn't a factor and that it wasn't a difficult and worrisome case for the team. But think of it...Hoyle knew of Mum's professional acumen better than most people, surely there must have been more factors than just the claim of his lover to go off on such a tangent and there must have been something that made Spencer and Boyd so protective. He almost bit my head off, just because we mentioned the name, not even the case..."

There wasn't much to add. They all knew that Gina was right. "You think it might not have something to do with a case, do you?" Eve finally asked.

Gina shrugged. "It sounds a little odd, calling her Grace when you accuse her of having made a professional mistake, don't you think?"

They were silent, contemplating this direction. In Kat's mind, the investigation had just gone from bad to worse. With case files they at least had a starting point, on a personal level...Grace was...well...late middle-aged. The scope for having offended somebody personally during her life...where should they start?

Eve and Gina exchanged glances, the scientist realizing that the other woman would have a hard time dealing with her mother's past. Eve knew that Gina disliked Boyd, almost more for the focal position the DSI took in Grace's life than his questionable manners. If her mother had been so focussed on a man who seemingly showed no appreciation for it whatsoever, she'd have been sore as well. But where Boyd was a known entity, this new development wasn't easy to estimate. She could see that Gina's patience and endurance were wearing thin.

It was only a matter of time and Spencer's ghoulishness until everything came together and Gina exploded.

"Spence will be back in a few minutes," she finally ventured. "And you said you'd have a profile ready."

The only reply was a rude hand gesture, which was definitely meant for the DI.

Spencer's timing was impeccable, for he chose that exact moment to enter the lab. It was easy to see that his meeting with the DAC hadn't improved his mood. If anything, the cloud over his head had darkened even more.

"Don't ask, just tell me what you know," he announced and fell onto a lab stool.

"There's bugger all to tell." It was Eve who took it up onto herself. "There's no match on the data base. Our man or woman is not on it."

From the look of it, Spencer swallowed his curses.

"Kat?"

"No joy on the cross-references either. Out of those case files we've finished, there are twenty people having had a physical chance, but none of them really definite. Without knowing what we are looking for, it is something like a game of Memory."

Spencer didn't say anything, but it was obvious that his mood had not improved.

"Gina!" He didn't really plan it, but the question came out like an order and that made the therapist bristle. Her shoulders squared, her posture went rigid and her expression became defensive.

"Do you have a profile for us?" he continued when she didn't answer, his tone chastising.

"On whom?"

"You're joking, right? I asked you to profile your mother's kidnapper and hours later you ask me whom you were supposed to profile? What are you playing at?

"Now wait, just a second! What are you playing at? Are you accusing me of not wanting or trying to help? It's my mother we are talking about!"

He jumped up from his perch, trying to enhance his authority with his larger height. "Yes, your mother, Gina! So why are you not sitting down and throw profiles at me?"

Gina jumped up as well, puffing herself up to equalize the height difference. The time in Afghanistan had definitely been worth something, for there didn't seem to be an advantage for the much taller and bigger man. "Of whom, Spencer? I'm not a profiler! All we have is two kidnapped people and two threatening notes claiming that my mother did something wrong. What am I supposed to profile? How can I even try when you are holding back information?"

"What?"

"Yes! You are not telling us the whole truth! You know what happened with that man Harry Taylor, and that case, and you are not telling us!" She took a deep breath, almost as if she were to calm herself, but in the end it just all broke out of Gina in a scream. "My Mum's been kidnapped. _My Mum_ might die and you won't even tell us why!"

"Gina!" Spencer's anger had almost completely disappeared from his voice and made way for desperation. "Gina...I don't know..."

"Oh, fuck you!"

Before anybody could say or do anything, she had rushed out of the lab, wiping angrily at the tears that were burning in her eyes.

* * *

><p>"How can she say that?" he whispered dejectedly. "How can she say I'd willingly endanger Grace? Or Boyd. It's Boyd there too, does she forget that?"<p>

Eve put a calming hand on his shoulder. "I don't think she does, Spence. It's just a little much for her."

Spencer gave her a look that said: And for us?

Shrugging the scientist went back to the vent and lit another cigarette. "I think Gina also begins to realize that there are things in Grace's past that she has never taken into account and the situation brings it all to the fore."

"What do you mean?"

"They think that the notes doesn't refer to one of Grace's cases. That it's something personal," Kat added quietly.

"And now she wonders what Grace could have done to provoke such an act of revenge."

"Which brings us to what?" he asked tiredly rubbing his face.

"Harry Taylor?"

There was a pregnant pause during which the two women stared meaningfully at the DI. He held their gaze, only to shrug after a while. "I think there was something personal with Harry Taylor. He had an accident a few months before his death and Grace had been in the car too, after hours. Grace was questioned during the inquest against Taylor, which sounds too big, if she just worked a case with him...but Grace never shared any details. Not with me."

"Boyd?" Eve asked.

"I'm sure he knew, but he never said anything...it was their...secret, I guess. Their thing."

"Their bubble..."

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>She had been walking, no marching - for God knew how long and the ironic thing was that she had done it in circles. Once again, probably for the fourth time in half an hour, she was standing in front of the pub down the road from the Met offices.<p>

Gina decided to ignore the irony or the parallel or whatever it was and just go in, sit down and have a drink. With the way this day had gone, she deserved it, and if she could yell at a few plods to leave her the hell alone, then all the better.

Inside it was fairly crowded, even though it wasn't even proper home time yet. A few men and women in uniform, a few plain clothes men, probably nobody outside the Met. How fitting.

Scrambling up onto a chair, she deliberated over her choice for a moment, before ordering a beer. Wine would have been too much Mum and at the moment she couldn't really deal with Mum's presence.

The half pint went down easily, though it's effect didn't really hit. She didn't want to get drunk, so it was probably better anyway. Depressed and drunk was a dangerous combination. What she really wanted was to no longer think. Not about her mother, not about the danger she was in, not about the secrets she had never shared.

Next to her somebody, a man, was pushing himself onto the bar stool, and Gina wanted to yell at him on principle. But the man didn't even look at her, staring moodily ahead as he ordered a full pint and a Scotch.

The bartender eyed them both, then put the man's order in front of him and another half pint in front of Gina. Somehow that got the man's attention and he gave her, or better her beer, a speculative look. Their gazes connected and they raised their glasses in a sardonic toast.

That established, they both nursed their drinks and then in unison ordered another.

"Don't wanna get drunk, just buzzed?" he asked after a while, in what she noticed was a fairly nice voice.

"Forget things is more like it."

"Job, boyfriend or family?" he asked.

She didn't answer. "You?"

"Family and job, not necessarily in that order."

"Are you a plod?" she asked with a bit of a derisive smile.

"Detective, please."

Gina held her hands up. "Sorry, Mr. Detective."

"Don't like us much, do you?" the man asked.

She shrugged noncommittally. "Met's been a bit too much of a presence."

"Same here...it was always about the Met and what great men they were."

Gina chuckled and gave the man a longer, appraising look. Dark hair, dark eyes, handsome. Not bad. "You joined."

"Yeah, following the hero's footsteps. Bollocks that."

"Why?

"No, what did the Met do to you?"

"Me Mum works with them...the job of her life...the one she'd been looking for all her life, I guess. The team, the cases...that man... The kids got pushed to the side, I guess..."

"You think?" he asked gently, his gaze holding hers. He did have nice eyes. And his voice was gentle. She liked that about him.

Shrugging, she took another sip of her beer. "Not really... It's...so far removed from us, a different world...and now I'm finding out things that...I don't know...I didn't know, things she didn't share...it's a little too much, I guess."

The man nodded and emptied his tumbler of Scotch. "I had the same thing...only, the things I found out...none of them were positive and it's like it's all lagging behind me, impeding my career even though he's been dead for 30 years." He snorted. "My governor told me today that my request for transfer and promotion was denied. Again."

"Why?"

The tumbler made a rather hard connection with bar top. "Oh...it was all softly, softly and vague. _My credentials didn't really fit. I wasn't the kind of officer they were looking for. There was no spot for my ambition_...all that crap." His voice sounded rough and even though there was anger, there was also resignation.

"It's all politics then?"

"Yeah. It's my name, or better...my father's name that closes one door after the other. Ever since they reinvestigated one of his cases a few years back..."

"Your father was a copper too?" Gina asked, feeling even though it was remote, a kinship to the man.

"Yeah. Turns out he wasn't quite the hero his friends and my mum made him out to be. He had an incredible success rate, but it was all crooked. Maybe he was even bent...not to mention that he couldn't keep his zipper closed." He stared into his pint and still did so. "I guess that's why they didn't want me to work at the unit I applied for. Didn't want to confront the former mistress with the son..."

Raising his hand, he ordered two more beers.

On her seat, Gina swallowed. She didn't know this man, as nice as he sounded and as much as she understood his dilemma. What he said, struck a chord within her. There was a feeling in her, something she couldn't name, but it was growing stronger with every second.

"Special unit then?" she asked lightly, as much to hide her unease as to keep the conversation flowing and maybe...find out what she really didn't want to know.

"Cold Cases... It would be fantastic working there, no matter if that woman works there or not. Just a brilliant chance..."

She closed her eyes, forcing down the beer that was threatening to rush up from her stomach again. It wasn't...couldn't...could it?

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. There was that gentle voice again, now accompanied by a smile, which really looked nice and sounded nice and...good God, what was she thinking?

"Look at us, here we are and I'm telling you the sad story of my life and don't even know your name."

She didn't want to answer. If she did...he'd know instantly. "Georgina," she managed. "Call me George, though." Where that had come from, she didn't know, didn't want to think about it really.

"Well, Georgina George...I'm Gerald Taylor...but I think I should look for another last name. What do you think?"

He, Gerald Taylor, raised his glass in another toast and Gina could only mechanically follow the gesture. In her mind thoughts tumbled all over each other.

* * *

><p>She had somehow managed to move him onto the bed. It had taken a while and quite a bit of silent cursing on her part, but it had all fallen silent when she had him stretched out on the bed, finally relaxing. There were bruises on his face, which she'd bet came from fists.<p>

It wasn't too bad, though, nothing life threatening, just painful for a while. The guy only wanted to let off some steam or frustration or whatever, maybe over his constant banging against the door.

Grace had chuckled lightly at that, glad to see Boyd grin as well. As long as they had a bit of humour at their side, it couldn't be too bad, could it?

Their mood was sober again now, though. Apart from the fists and the food there was absolutely no interaction with their kidnappers and it worried them both. What purpose did their abduction have?

They had quietly discussed this before, but that had ended in Boyd's fatalistic remark, "Maybe we're supposed to rot in here", and with that on the table, they had fallen silent.

Now they were both stretched out on the bed, Grace trying to take up as little space as possible, so Boyd could recover better. Thinking of the notes, she felt guilty. He probably wasn't even supposed to be here, but because he always needed to protect her... And now there was a man who had taken them, and a woman too, and she couldn't make head or tail of what it all meant.

"Don't think so loudly, Grace," he rasped quietly. "And get over here or you fall off the bed."

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	6. Adagio

A/N: The plot thickens and things get...well, uncomfortable. Thank you for the lovely reviews you've send and well...I hope you'll enjoy this too. And it's really all about "Romanes eunt domus."

Many thanks go - as always and for many things - to Shadowsamurai83.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter V - Adagio<strong>

It had been a short night and that wasn't entirely due to the alcohol she had consumed. Whenever she closed her eyes, or even when she didn't, Gina heard the words in an endless loop. Harry Taylor had been her mother's lover, or better, the other way around. She had been Harry Taylor's mistress.

According to his son.

His handsome son with the nice eyes and the gentle voice and the frustration over a job not gotten. All because of...what?

Gina wasn't sure about it, didn't even know whether to believe him. Gerald Taylor had looked sincere, and unless all this was a huge set-up, he didn't even know her. He had told a perfect stranger. It was her who had the information and made the connection.

The man had died before she was born, even before her parents had married, but the thought that her mother had done something like that...

Of course, Gina wasn't so naive to believe the two times only-fairytale. Grace had never made a big secret out of sex - a single mother of teenagers probably couldn't - but she had always been very tight-lipped about her own experiences.

Harry Taylor...if Gerald looked anything like his father... Gina groaned. Was she already on first name basis with that man, if only or already in her own mind?

Good Lord! What a way to make an even bigger mess.

She had practically fled the bed, rushed through the shower and down into the kitchen. For a while, she had stood in front of the radio, wanting desperately to have something to cover up the silence that made each of her steps resound in the house, each breath appear doubly loud. There wasn't even a cat or something to bring a little life into the house, and for a short moment, Gina wondered if that was why her mother had worked so much.

It was unnerving now. The coffee was running through and yet there was oppressive silence. Gina could hear herself think and somehow she didn't like that.

The papers, photos, files and notes in the living room were tempting, but if there had been any real information in them, they would have found it before. What she hadn't mentioned, hadn't even thought of, though, was a small box her mother had always kept locked. Gina knew where the key was, knew where the box was hidden.

In it there might be confirmation. Maybe there were photos, possibly even love letters...

The toaster threw out the two slices, black now, since she had unconsciously pushed them in several times.

No, Gina decided, swallowing the coffee and ignoring the toasts - not to mention the burnt smell - the box would be the last resort and it wouldn't tell anything she didn't already know.

Gerald had not been lying. He hadn't known who he was telling, so there had been no reason. Besides, profiler she might not be, but Gina prided herself in being able to very accurately guess when people were lying.

No, her answers lay somewhere else.

As she rushed out of the front door, it wasn't even 7 yet. If she got lucky, she'd be in the office even before Eve and definitely before Spence and Kat. Rushing towards the tube station, she firmly pushed the thought of Gerald Taylor away. She had to deal with a much bigger problem. Peter Boyd in absentia and the big question whether she'd survive going through his things.

* * *

><p>Naturally, her plan, which was admittedly only half-baked, backfired spectacularly as she arrived at the bullpen and found both Spencer and Kat already glued to their screens.<p>

The moment was awkward as Spencer stood and slowly built himself up in front of her.

"Look..." They both started simultaneously, then grinned a little awkwardly.

Neither really wanted to say it out loud; apologies weren't their style really.

They gave each other a long look, which turned into a rueful smile, recognising the parallels. Equally simultaneously they muttered, "It's alright," only to be followed after a few moments with, "Coffee?"

From her desk, Kat gave them a look and then rolled her eyes. The inward comparison with a school yard almost forced itself into her brain.

"Did you find anything?" Gina asked as she sat down.

It was Kat who answered. "Nothing yet, but it's probably a dead end anyway. If this is personal then we'll find nothing in the case files."

Once again, Spencer bristled, which this time brought a smile to Gina's face. "Was Mum attacked personally before, Spence? I mean...except with the Tony Greene-case?"

"Never like this," he said after a while. "That was incredibly personal for her... I've never seen her so...defeated, I guess." Looking up he made eye-contact with Gina. "That's not like Grace."

"No, it isn't." She smiled for a moment. "But why was it so personal?"

Once again, they looked at each other, this time trying to gather how much the other knew. It wasn't standoffish, but they both knew it was a test.

Finally, Spencer heaved a deep sigh. "If you're asking whether there was some personal involvement...I don't know."

Gina nodded. "So, if I ask you whether my mother had an affair with Harry Taylor then you'll truthfully tell me that you don't know."

Eve and Kat on their seats held their breath. Especially Eve felt a nervous tingle rise up her spine. The question seemed a little far out, but if the answer was yes...what then? What would that mean?

He leaned back for a moment and ran both hands through his hair, then over his face. Spencer tended to be a man of the 'don't tell me and I don't ask'-faction and where Boyd and Grace were concerned, he had always found this to be a successful tactics. That didn't mean he didn't pick things up, though.

"I don't know. Grace never told me, us, anything. Boyd, maybe, because he became even more...protective, determined...the way he is. But he stopped to push her as much as he had done before." They all grinned for a moment. "Maybe he discovered some well of gentleness."

Even though she grinned, Eve rolled her eyes at that.

"Did Mum tell Boyd, you think?"

Again Spencer shook his head. "If she did, it never left the room. We suspected, but we never knew."

"Okay." Gina nodded.

A minute dropped by during which they were all silent.

"She did."

"She did what?" Eve looked at Gina, confused and a little worried by the other woman's expression.

"Mum had an affair with Taylor."

"How do you know?"

"His son told me last night." Shaking her head at the unbelievable coincidence, Gina snorted. "He didn't know who I was, never realized what exactly he told me...but that's what it was."

The three Met-employees jumped up and crowded in on Gina. "What? Who?"

Gina smiled ruefully and shrugged. "Gerald Taylor. Detective Sergeant Gerald Taylor."

"Shit!"

Eve fell back onto her chair with a heavy thud. God, how she craved a fag. "You can say that again, Spence!" she drawled sarcastically.

For all it was worth, Spencer looked as if he'd kill for a drink and a cigarette too. "Especially since he was just turned down for a transfer to this unit for the second time."

It was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop in the office.

"You do know what this means, right?"

* * *

><p>It was bordering on illegal, would definitely land them in hot water, but once all the implications had sunk in, the team had jumped into action.<p>

Eve was on her computer, going over the notes again and this time cross-checking them with Taylor's information. Next to her, Gina was perched on a lab stool, reciting all possible implications the facts they now had could mean.

Spencer and Kat were on their way to bring in DS Taylor for questioning.

It was there where they expected the biggest piece de resistance. DAC Christie would have their head for just pulling in a serving officer for questioning, especially with as little as they had on their hands. And naturally, there was no time to wait for permission from higher ranks. There never was.

They marched into the station, flashed their badges, and basically ordered the shocked detective to come with them. The ride back to the CCU offices was silent on their part and peppered with confused and quick, uneasy questions from Taylor.

He became silent once they reached the building, a short curse his only reaction as they led him down to their interview rooms. The man wasn't impressed, rather put off, in fact, something that gave Spencer a grim sense of satisfaction. DS Taylor wouldn't be asking for a transfer again.

Both Eve and Gina stood in the ante-room, watching the scene unfolding inside.

"Handsome fellow," Eve commented quietly and off-handedly. Gina didn't reply, her nerves suddenly as taut as a drum. Eve noticed and put a calming hand on her shoulder. "We'll find them. I'm sure."

Inside the room, Spencer gave the other man a cursory look. He knew he'd have to do this strategically, though he wasn't sure how long it would take before his temper got the better of him. The entire ride, there and back, the thoughts had rushed around in his head. Grace's previous indiscretion was hitting him harder than he'd have thought. Not that he didn't know she was human, but somehow he'd always thought she'd... It was probably like realizing your mother actually had a sex life beyond your conception, though he definitely didn't want to go down that road. The other thing was the fact that if it came down to Gerald Taylor, then it was about the personal revenge of somebody who'd been waiting for it for close to 30 years. And that was a very long time to plan and prepare.

"Interview starting at 9.47am. In the room are DS Gerald Taylor, DS Katrina Howard and DI Spencer Jordan," Kat stated for the tape as she carefully studied the man on the other side of the table. He was doing the same thing, detective's habit, probably, though his confusion was obvious.

"DS Taylor, this is an informal inquiry to obtain information on our unit's current investigation. As of now, you are not a suspect and all information you give is of your own free will," Spencer stated, though he'd much rather it'd be different.

Taylor looked at them. "In that case, I'm sure I can go, because I have nothing to say."

"We don't think so."

"Oh, you don't?" he drawled sarcastically. "You march me out of my office as if I'm not a suspect, but already found guilty, without telling me what is going on and now you expect me to help out? You must be out of your mind!"

There was a sardonic grin on Spencer's face as he replied, "Occupational hazard in this unit. It's not in the job description, though." Becoming very serious, he leaned forward. "Is it correct that you requested a transfer to this unit recently?"

"Why ask when you already know?" Gerald leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. If the other guy wanted to bollock him, he'd bollock right back.

"Answer the question!"

"I don't have to. And you know that I just have use my phone to complain and your precious unit is in some deep shit. Not even your legendary Boyd will get out of this unscathed. You can't just pull me in without anything in hand."

Spencer was around the table in a flash, pulling the other man up by his shirt. He was heavy and definitely fit, so in case of a struggle there was no telling who'd keep the upper hand. "You requested transfer twice and it was denied twice, Taylor and that's hardly my problem. You desperately want to get in here. I already am! So what?"

Gerald glowered and with a quick, hard move was free again. Knowing that he had made his point, Spencer returned to his seat. "So, we can safely establish that you've requested transfer and have been denied twice. I've also read the notices in your file about the denied application. But I'd like to hear your version."

"Forget it!"

He'd hit a nerve and they both knew it. "I find it strange, DS Taylor, that you desperately want to join a unit that was essential in starting to demolish your father's...pedestal. Wanting to join us sounds a little...strange."

Taylor shrugged, but didn't say anything. At this point he had absolutely no intention of pouring his heart out. He'd already done that last night and for a short moment, he wondered what happened to the woman. George. Had she...grassed on him?

"Alright," Kat interrupted the tense silence, realizing that they weren't getting anywhere with this line of questioning. "DS Taylor, where were you between 9 and 11 am, three days ago?"

"Not a formal interview you say?" he snorted.

"If you don't cooperate, it will become a fully fledged inquiry."

"Then I want a solicitor present."

Mirroring the earlier words, Spencer snorted. "Forget it!"

* * *

><p>They were getting nowhere quickly with the interview, that was as clear as day. Outside, the two women looked at each other and shook their heads. Come to think of it, it hadn't been the smartest thing exactly to just barge out and get Taylor in. Half his station would vouch for him probably and his alibi easy to verify. The man was a dead end.<p>

Spencer and Kat had come to the same conclusion and when they joined the others outside, leaving Taylor alone in the interview room, Spence looked fit to be tied.

"I swear...," he growled.

"Yeah," Gina agreed.

"If he knows anything, and somehow I doubt, he's our man..." Eve butted in.

"...So do I," Kat agreed.

"...He'll not tell. Not without us having foolproof hints that force a confession."

"Which we don't. So we have to let him go."

They were silent for a few moments, mulling over what to do now.

In the end, Spencer shrugged. "We'll release him."

"And then?" Gina asked, more to say anything than really needing an answer.

"With the kind of mess we're already in, we might as well make the punishment worth the crime. Kat, you follow him. We'll pull his phone records, see who he contacts, talks to. What he does." The others looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, then nodded. "I don't know if he's our man, but I won't let him get away without giving us at least _some_ information."

* * *

><p>They'd been fighting all the way through the building and he was really getting tired of it. In fact, he was getting tired of the entire business. It was only a matter of time until the police figured out the particulars. He didn't believe that <em>their<em> team would let things lie.

It had always been something of an obstacle, the loyalty and support Grace Foley received from her colleagues. It screamed in his face when he remembered that instead of only one...guest...they were having two.

Not for the first time did he wonder why he had started this in the first place.

His companion, obviously, had other ideas, which had inevitably led to this confrontation.

"You didn't hear me," he tried again, his voice growing louder with every word. "We need to decide what we're actually going to do with them! Just keeping them here indefinitely is ridiculous! Stupid!"

"Don't you dare call me stupid! Least of all you!" The woman screeched and inwardly he cringed. "She deserves this!"

Shaking his head, he turned to look at her. "That's all good and fine, but how long do you want to keep her here! Weeks, months? Years, maybe?"

"I don't know!"

"Oh, for God's sake, we can't keep two people locked up here for eternity, just for the sake of keeping them prisoner! We've got to think on how our lives are going to go on and it can't be coming here several times a day just to check whether two people that are complete strangers to us have managed to escape or shag!"

"She's not a stranger, she's a whore!" The companion's hands were balled into fists, yet they were still shaking with rage and with a twinge of nervousness, the former watcher realized that at some point he'd have to make a decision between this woman and sanity.

"I know how you feel," he said as gently as he could muster, holding and squeezing his companion's shoulders. "But we need to think rationally. It's only a matter of time until the police will make the connection...or at least look into us. We need to be faster than they are."

"With what?" The woman asked.

He sighed again. He wanted to shout, shake her. This was all so idiotic. He had followed her wishes, because that was the kind of man he was. He had watched the woman in the room beyond that door, he found out her habits, her times, her contacts. He had attacked her and beaten her companion unconscious. He had dragged them both to this place. He was watching over them now, brought them food, and avoided getting punched by the man, Boyd.

All because she wished it and he couldn't say no to her.

He wasn't kidding about the police closing in on them, knew how they worked, imagined how determined Foley's team would be to find their profiler and their superior officer. If they were caught...then he'd be a goner. Not getting the promotion would be the least of his worries, preparing for prison a lot more likely.

No, this needed to end. Soon.

"What do you want to get out of keeping them here?" he asked once again. "What do you think you can gain?"

"I want her to suffer! Like she made me..."

Throwing his hands up, he turned away. "But how? Just keeping her locked in a room with a man she might want to shag...or already does...isn't exactly punishing her! It's wasting our time!" He turned again to face her and this time he shouted, in the vain hope of getting through. "It's only a matter of time until the police reel us in for questioning! And what then?"

Obstinately, the woman crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a glare that he only knew too well. "They will find out _nothing_ from me!"

Growling deep in his throat, he pushed by her and marched out of the building.

* * *

><p>She didn't really like observation duty and this one didn't really change her mind. It had taken quite a while to locate Gerald Taylor and Kat didn't dare think what he had managed to do in the meantime. Spencer would have her head if he heard that she'd taken so long to spot her target. That was if Eve or Gina weren't faster than the DI.<p>

However, upon leaving the building, Taylor had been gone already, whether by cab or tube, she wasn't sure. His station hadn't been an option either, since his superior had already called at CCU to ask what was taking them so long. Taylor showed no intention to return to his desk, and instead was seated in a pub, only a few streets down from the CCU offices.

He was on his second pint and had it not been for his frantic attempts to make phone calls, he'd have looked like one of the other losers.

Unfortunately, he wasn't.

The phone had to be burning up already the way he treated it, punching the buttons violently and throwing the small gadget onto the table in front of him. It did remind her of Boyd, who tended to cultivate the same habit.

She perked up as she noticed that finally Taylor seemed successful in whoever he had wanted to reach.

His face didn't relax, though; in fact, became more tense by the second. He obviously didn't like what he was hearing and that made her nervous.

The pub wasn't too crowded, so she couldn't go any closer without risking to be seen. But from her vantage point, she also couldn't hear what he was saying and his facial expressions were...open to debate, you could say.

The emotions ran gamut on his face. Tenderness, anger, nervousness, frustration, even a hint of fear.

Taylor's phone once again dropped onto the table and he got up to order another pint. Upon receiving it, he returned to his table, settling himself for the duration.

* * *

><p>Gina was pacing, which had put off Eve, who had retreated to her lab, and Spencer, who'd sent her out to stop bothering him. Thus she was rounding the parking lot for what seemed the hundredth time.<p>

Where there'd been a sense of purpose and progress earlier, it had deflated into the same downtrodden feeling that had driven her out of bed in the morning.

On a personal level, she'd always scoffed at the idea of past deeds coming back to haunt you. It was all in your mind and your feelings of responsibility and guilt that made past occurrences a shadow of your present. All very psychological and all shared by her mother. Only her mother had always said that the intellectual knowledge didn't prevent the feelings, nor undid it past actions.

It had all sounded so wise and so preachy...

She hadn't expected the pang it had given her when Gerald saw her, recognised her as he marched out of the interview room. The expression on his face - the surprise, then the second of anger, and finally the closing off of his thoughts and emotions. From a therapist's point of view, he had just stopped communicating and thus making therapy neigh on impossible. From a personal point of view, Gina was disappointed. She'd only met him the night before and yet...

When had life become such a convoluted mess?

His silence in the interview room didn't speak for him, but somehow, on a gut feeling, she couldn't see him kidnapping people. At the same time, what if this was wishful thinking on her part? What if she'd been so starved for attention, male attention...? He hadn't even really flirted, had he?

And come to think of it. Gerald Taylor? The son of the man...

Falling heavily against a wall, Gina heaved a loud sigh. "Good God, Mother! What a mess this is."

* * *

><p>"You're wearing a hole into the floor and I don't think through the floor is a workable escape route." Sitting back against the headboard, her arms circling her knees, she gave him gentle look.<p>

He glowered at her, but interrupted his pacing. "What do you propose then?" he asked acidly, though underneath there was a gentleness that she easily detected.

In response, she shrugged, her expression turning into a small smirk as his face darkened even further.

"Not the right answer, Grace!" But instead of further pacing, he returned to the bed and fell onto it. His groan spoke of long-suffering, but it was born more from having to sit back and wait than anything else. "We can't just wait here forever until somebody decides to do something with us. It's like lambs being led to slaughter, only they make us wait for it in front of the poacher's block."

"Are you comparing yourself to a lamb, Boyd?" Her voice was teasing and she let her hand hover over his hair as if to play with it.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. "No, comparing myself to a lamb would be a personality disorder."

"Meaning you're the proverbial wolf."

He grinned. "Exactly."

Grace gave him a long look, doubt and amusement warring on her face. "I see."

"We can't just lie here and do nothing, Grace! Roll over and lay down can't be it!" He broke out again, his body jumping into action - pacing - just like his voice.

"I know."

"We'll be here eternally," he added, before she could continue. "If we don't do anything..."

"The question is what they want to do with us," Grace ventured with a tired sigh and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was startled to see Boyd sitting in front of her, concern written all over his face. Not for the first time was she taken aback by his quick changes of temper. He had always been unpredictable, but lately it had turned into mercurial behaviour. You never knew what happened next.

Still, the concern was familiar now, soothing actually.

"You don't know?" he asked, his hand gently squeezing her knee.

"I'm not psychic, Boyd. I would only guess..."

"What do you guess then?"

Grace sighed and rubbed a hand against her temples. The constant enclosure was slowly but surely giving her a headache. She was beginning to develop cabin fever, which was unfortunate, since Boyd already had it in full force. And two caged animals...

"I don't know. It would be easier if I was certain that _they_ know what they want to do with us."

He nodded, his hand squeezing her knee once again. It was just what he was beginning to believe. "Why keep us here then? It's a waste of effort, if they don't get anything out of it and so far there's little we could really charge them with...except kidnapping."

A smile flitted around the corners of her mouth as she reached up and gingerly touched the spectacular bruise under his left eye. "Little?"

"You know what I mean," he groused. "Really, though, why take us? To watch us? Do what?" There was a quick brash continuation on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it before it came out. She knew, of course. She always did.

"Maybe that's the entire point. Just having us in here, where they can watch us, where they can wait for us to do something specific..."

For a moment, it looked like Boyd would take up his pacing again, but instead he settled himself next to her against the head board and pulled her against him. Despite his recent solicitousness, he wasn't usually so openly physical...especially if someone was watching.

"At least it's not about your life against somebody else's this time," he murmured quietly. It sounded like it was said in jest, but they both knew it wasn't.

They were silent for a while, contemplating, and time and again trying to read their thoughts in the other's face.

"We need to get out of here, Grace! Inside here we are sitting ducks..." Pulling back for a better angle, Boyd looked at her intently, desperate to make his point. "I won't stand for a repeat of the Hoyle-scenario..."

Grace didn't answer, just leaned her head against his shoulder. A moment later his arms were holding her tightly against his side.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	7. Finale

A/N: Confused you all, I gather. I have to admit, that confuses me a little, since it is all so glaringly obvious. ;o) - At least I thought it was. Shows what I know. Anyway, I really, really hope this chapter will resolve all confusion and placate the more impatient ones amongst you. I'm very, very grateful to all of you for reading and commenting and liking the story. And of course, many, many thanks go to **ShadowSamurai83** for the beta...and to **Gracebe** for holding my umbrella ;oP

And now...

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VI - Finale<strong>

"You know, I feel like we are prying into someone's personal life. It's like reading somebody else's diary." Sitting in a chair next to Kat's desk, Gina sighed.

"It's part of the job," Spencer replied, without any malice. He was tired too. It had been a long few days and nights, without any success except the slow unravelling of their profiler's personal secrets. They were prying and though he was professionally detached when it came to Harry Taylor, they were also, and very much so, prying into the rest of Grace's life. He didn't like it, lay awake in the short hours he was home, worrying about their colleagues and wondering who Grace could have offended this much, and how. "It's what we do."

He turned to Kat, who stood poised, next to the board. "What do we have?"

Kat rolled her eyes at the words, the full echo of their boss, but began nonetheless. "Harry Taylor, born May 1945, died November 1981. Detective Sergeant in CID for almost 6 years at the time of his death. Official accolades several times in those six years for high efficiency and an incredibly high success rate."

"Which as we know was partially due to his habit to force confessions, either by physical, emotional or psychological abuse," Eve added. "There's also talk about planted evidence and faked confessions, but the Met doesn't intend to put in a lot of effort to sort it out. It's too embarrassing apparently."

Spencer nodded. "That's as far as we got the last time too. But that's not what is of interest now." Picking up a few papers, he waved them around like a flag. "I've checked the transcripts of Tony Greene's appeal hearing. Greene's solicitor inferred in her questions to Grace that there was a personal relationship between her and Taylor, which would have clouded her professional judgement. In fact, the solicitor more than inferred and was called to order by the judge for it."

"She wasn't wrong about it, though," Kat said. "Grace and Taylor did have an affair."

"Yes, and if what we know about the final weeks and months of Taylor's life, they weren't even overly discreet about it. Higher ranks in the Met knew about it and called Grace in for a hearing during a misconduct-inquiry against Taylor." Picking up her own papers, Eve shrugged. "But you already figured that out last time, didn't you, Spence?"

Scratching his head, Spencer also shuffled on his chair. He didn't like this. Not at all. "Yeah."

"The inquiry was dropped because Taylor died in that car accident?" That was Gina while she was giving the board a speculative look.

"Yes, the other guys from his nick covered up that he was driving drunk, so that his family received the full pension. Wasn't the first time he'd driven under influence, though. Not the first time he had an accident either."

"Did they know about the affair?" the therapist continued.

"It would make sense, wouldn't it?"

"It would also be the way the information got to Taylor's family in the end," Eve concluded.

"That's possible," Kat replied before turning back to the board. "At the time of his death, Taylor was, obviously, 36 years old, had been married for 9 years to a Glenda Laughton. At the time she was a stay-home mother, due to the three children the Taylors had. Two sons and a daughter, 7, 4 and 2 years old. DS Gerald Taylor is the youngest of them, joined the Met right out of school. Made a good reputation for himself, but his father's shadow does hold up his advancement."

His interest piqued, Spencer leaned forward. "What about the others?"

"We've managed to locate and contact the daughter. She's on maternity leave at the moment and willing to talk to us, though I got the feeling that she knew we'd already questioned her brother. She said she had a doctor's appointment in morning but around noon, she'll call to set up a meeting."

"Good, well done." That was at least something, Spencer knew. Not much, but something. It stung that they didn't even have the element of surprise on their side any more, and it stung more than a little that he'd been the one to blow that. "And the others?"

Kat and Eve exchanged a significant glance that wasn't missed by the other two. The answer wasn't quick in forthcoming and it filled both Gina and Spence with a sense of dread.

"What's going on?" Gina asked impatiently, the knot in her stomach tightening yet again.

"We couldn't find or reach Glenda Taylor. The same with her older son. Elliot Taylor has apparently taken extended leave from his job around three and a half weeks ago. Every time one of his colleagues tried to call him and ask him about a get together in a pub, he couldn't be reached."

"And that's unusual because...?"

"Apparently, Elliot Taylor never misses those."

* * *

><p>It was becoming sort of an unpleasant rule that the day dragged on with nothing to account for. The only interruption to the tedium of trying to locate Elliot and Glenda Taylor was a call from Christie. Spencer didn't look happy when he left, and even less so when he returned.<p>

On a personal note, Christie had soothed the DI, but professionally, it had been a good rollicking. It was clear that Gerald Taylor had mentioned his treatment by the CCU and his superior had put in a complaint.

As always, the CCU was there to bring the golden results or be kicked in the gut. Sometimes it seemed as if every other unit in town only waited for a chance to lash out at Boyd's team. It was also apparent that the higher ranks in the Met had little interest in drawing even more attention to the lives and times of Harry Taylor. The truth wasn't in style these days.

Lunch hadn't improved the mood with stale sandwiches from plastic packets and another of the uncounted cups of strong coffee. They were all on edge, aware that they were close to solving the riddle, sure to be close to finding and nailing the person responsible. But without a trail to Boyd and Grace's current location, it was all for naught.

They were pacing and sitting, then pacing some more.

Things got worse when the time that Taylor's daughter was supposed to show up for her interview came and went without a sight or call of the woman. Spencer was ready to yell, Kat treated the coffee machine more harshly than was necessary, Eve disappeared to her lab for a smoke, and Gina...paced.

An explosion of tempers was inevitable and there was no Grace to mediate peace.

The young PC, barely old enough to have finished middle school, therefore looked positively terrified when he entered the offices with an envelope in his hand. Upon three people sporting scowls advancing on him and a harshly barked, "What?" he basically dropped the envelope in his hand onto a desk.

"What's this?" Spencer demanded, making the PC look about to wet himself. A few steps away, Gina couldn't help the smirk. The day might be rotten, but the entertainment was slowly improving.

"Came by courier, just 5 minutes ago. For the CCU," the PC stammered.

"Did you know the courier?" Kat pressed.

The PC nodded wildly and continued stammering, while at the same time taking steps backwards. "Comes by often, used by some other stations to deliver here."

Before they could ask any further, he'd fled, leaving Gina and the two officers to contemplate the envelope on the desk.

It didn't look anything special. Letter size, recycled paper, a self-adhesive sticker with the printed address. You didn't need to be that much of an expert to...

"Let's take this to Eve," Gina muttered.

Reconvening in the lab, they stared at the envelope for a few moments before the pathologist decisively ripped it open. She'd check it for prints later, rolling her eyes at the fact that they'd have to catch the PC and that courier to eliminate them from the list. They'd also have to question the courier as to where from he'd picked up this particular parcel, but that wasn't here or now.

Looking inside, Eve turned the envelope over, but only a small slip of paper tumbled out and gently sailed onto the work surface.

They all stared at it, the question of "That's it?" prominent in all their minds. However, nobody voiced it.

"It's a note," Eve stated the obvious. It was. A small one at that. "There's an address on it. In Hendon..."

"Near the M1?" Kat interrupted.

Eve shrugged. "Possibly."

Before she could say anything further, the other three rushed towards the computer and phone. A quick online search showed the address to be of an area of storage facilities and small companies - mostly logistics. It didn't have to mean much, but Elliot Taylor did work for an overseas trading firm and coincidences didn't matter much in their profession.

They were out of the building and in the car within minutes again, Spencer having won the small squabble about who'd drive. Eve at least kept enough presence of mind to take the time to grab her kit and call for SOCO.

Gina sat back in the back seat, carefully adjusting the safety belt. Her stomach was already doing flip flops in anticipation of what they might find. Corpses? Beaten flesh? One? Two? What would she say? What needed to be done?

But most of all, how was she going to get to this place in one piece?

* * *

><p>The area didn't look very welcoming. Though you couldn't call it derelict, it was obvious that not many people came around this place on a regular basis. It wasn't dirty either...but bleak and non-descript definitely applied.<p>

They crept around the structures, careful not to be seen, though on further checks, they realized they didn't need to worry. Nobody was watching and waiting. The structure that finally bore the number they were searching for didn't show any difference from the other buildings. Smooth walls in a rather un-fetching shade of yellow beige.

At first it seemed as if the only noise around was the wind whipping around edges, but then, all of a sudden, Spencer looked at the two women, his eyes alert. It only took a split second, but then he ran off, storming into the building with a loud crash.

The noise that had even reached outside was a cacophony inside the walls.

There were two men, engaged in a fierce fight - fists flying, feet kicking, shoulders tackling. Their grunts and groans of force covered up the abuse they were shouting at each other, but it couldn't drown out the shrill screams of the woman standing a few feet back but trying to intervene every few seconds.

Nobody could understand the content of her screams, too hysterical, too shrill were the sounds.

Spencer and the two women stared at the scene, not sure how to break in. There were no weapons visible, but as charged as the atmosphere was, they couldn't be sure.

With a short gesture of his head, Spencer sent Gina a little further away to keep an eye on the woman and stay away from the fighting men at the same time. Though she didn't look too happy, she complied without a word. As she moved a little further into the shadows, she noticed a door and...but she couldn't be sure, not with the commotion around her.

The Met officers circled the fighters, surprised that they hadn't been noticed by the woman at least, but one look at her face showed that she was too far gone into wherever she was. There was nothing and nobody that she could still notice.

One, two, three... It was Spencer who counted down and then the two officers jumped in, pulling with all their might. It wasn't easy, not for Kat, but not for Spencer either, despite his bulk and strength. The two men were battling out emotions so fierce that neither was willing to be subdued.

Still, the surprise factor was on their side, so they managed to pull them apart. At least for a little while.

The shout that followed, though, shocked them all: "I arrest you on suspicion of capturing and detaining Grace Foley! You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be given in evidence!"

It didn't come from Spencer. Nor from Kat.

Still struggling and ready to lunge at the other man was Gerald Taylor.

* * *

><p>The noises coming through the door were not encouraging. Normally almost deathly silent, what had to be the ante-room to their prison seemed to be a hubbub of commotion. It was the first real sign of life, the trays having been pushed in like ghosts before, but it didn't necessarily mean a positive development.<p>

For all they knew it could mean somebody setting up an elaborate set of guns, ready to extinguish anything within a mile-radius.

Grace grimaced at the morbidity of her thoughts, but hiding them had little point. From the look on Boyd's face, she knew that his thoughts had taken a similarly dark turn. Even without it, she would have known. His body was so tense that he looked like he'd snap at the smallest thing.

In addition, he was moving himself between her and the door, ready to shield her with his body. Stupidly heroic, just like the moment when she'd been accosted by that man on the Heath, but it warmed her heart nonetheless.

"Move behind me," he mouthed, even though he could probably have shouted it to the same effect.

She didn't ask how he planned on protecting them with his bare hands, but followed without further thought. Almost hidden behind Boyd's broad back, she did feel safer, and warmer.

Outside the commotion mounted, voices now discernable, and to her surprise, Grace could feel a nervous tremor rushing down Boyd's spine. On instinct, she extended her hand, grasping his and squeezing. For a moment, the outside commotion didn't exist, even the room had become distinctly smaller.

Then there was silence. In fact, it was so quiet that the only thing they heard was each other's breathing, heavier, preparing for attack. If Boyd knew one thing in this moment, it was that they wouldn't go out without a fight; he wouldn't let those bastards get their hands on Grace without having to move over his dead body first, and even then...he wouldn't go without having taken out as many of them as possible. It was a sad thought that they'd end like this, not having the chance to find out where...

The door was thrown open before he could finish the thought, instinct taking over as he gently pushed Grace back and went into a crouch, ready to explode at whoever was about to enter the room. His vision was quickly lining with red as concentration and focus readied him for the single moment when he attacked.

It was almost beyond human, this moment before he fought, always had been, but now...

"Boyd? Grace?"

At first he didn't recognise the voices or the words, his instincts to fight too prominent, but then there was Grace next to him, squeezing his shoulder and encircling his fist at the same time. "It's Kat, Peter. It's Kat and Spence."

He still wasn't convinced, ready to give up his stance, but she kept repeating her words, leaning against him with all the warmth and softness of her body.

When he finally looked at her, she quietly whispered, "It's over."

In reply he could only stare, disbelief warring with the instinctive relief at having gotten through this unscathed - needlessly, but unscathed. Grace's smile was shaky, the same emotions he felt flitting through her expression. He squeezed her hand around his, noticing how cold it was. "You need some sun," he whispered.

Grace only rolled her eyes.

"What's going on?" Boyd finally asked, turning to Kat who still stood in the doorway.

"Spencer is just taking your...'hosts' into custody, sir."

"Who?" It sounded harsh and for once, Grace didn't care that it wasn't polite.

"A mother and son team. Glenda and Elliot Taylor." The two older people started, both swallowing heavily. Kat continued, half oblivious to the reaction and half not wanting to dwell on it too much. "We'll know more when we've questioned them and Eve's had the time to do the forensics. She should be here any minute. Gina's called her and the SOCOs."

"Gina?" Boyd's hand turned over, gripping hers while his arm went around her shoulder. It was because of that, and only that, he felt Grace shake.

* * *

><p>Outside the wind was still whipping around the edges, but the sun had come out, giving the place a somewhat more friendly outlook. The first car was also already there, so they wouldn't have any trouble transporting their suspects.<p>

Gerald Taylor leaned against a wall, watching somewhat detachedly how his mother and his brother were pushed into the back seats. They didn't look at him, didn't say anything, but he supposed everything that needed to be said had been spoken earlier, before Elliot and he had started to fight. He couldn't process it yet, didn't know what to think, what to feel. He'd have to tell Frances, though how he'd explain, he didn't know.

He'd fled the building as quickly as possible and surprisingly, nobody had followed him. Maybe they didn't think he'd run, maybe they expected to pick him up easily anyway. The truth was that he couldn't stay one more second inside, there wasn't enough air in there.

Jordan had brought the two out, was now instructing uniform how to proceed. Their PC followed now, accompanied by, of all people...Georgina. Her presence in the interview room had been a shock, disappointment and resignation coming to the fore at the time. He still didn't know what to make of it, make of her. She was...coming towards him, and Gerald didn't even know if he liked that or not.

She stopped a foot away, maybe, her eyes searching his. What she found there, he didn't know.

She started to speak several times, but stopped and swallowed the words. It seemed as if she lost the courage in the minutes this took. He didn't help, wouldn't have known how.

At some point, movement on the edge of his vision distracted him, her too for that matter, and they both turned to look at the couple that were slowly walking outside. Boyd was protectively guiding the woman in his arm. His expression was fixed, warning off anybody who dared coming too close.

It didn't last long, though, because the woman, the famous Grace Foley, as Gerald realized with a quiet snort, gently detached herself and began to walk towards them.

Boyd hesitated, but then followed along, though keeping his distance.

Gerald felt his throat tighten, his posture as well. This confrontation he would have preferred to avoid, but he never got this lucky, did he?

She closed even more of the distance, was already so near that he could discern her features quite well. If anything, she seemed nervous too, not sure where she stood.

Just as he was about to make a decision what to say, Gina interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Gerald," she whispered, then turned away, to walk towards Dr. Foley.

He didn't know what to make of this either, until the two women were within inches of each other, and though he'd never had made the connection, now it was screamingly obvious.

Not given to theatrics, though, he could only stand there and watch.

The two women stared at each other and every heartbeat was like an hour. There was so much they wanted to say, needed to say, but no words came out. As it was, they both could discern certain thoughts as if they had actually been spoken.

Minutes passed again and for a brief moment, Gina was aware of the intense scrutiny they both were under. A quick flick of her gaze revealed Boyd to be hovering just a few steps away, Spencer and Eve also watching from afar. Behind her was Gerald and he was watching too.

But more than anything, she could see dark blue eyes she knew very well trained on her, nervous, hopeful, expectant. Her thoughts during the descent into Heathrow came back to her mind and Gina briefly smiled. Mummy was here now and it was only a small step.

Seconds later, she had her arms full of her mother, could feel her shaking, but at the same so warm and solid that the tears burned in her eyes. She swallowed the sob, though, felt her mother do the same.

When they parted, she could see her mother's face hardly controlled as well, tears swimming in her eyes.

"And now?" she asked tremulously.

Grace smiled, the first tear spilling over and running down her cheek. She was mindlessly stroking her daughter's hair; if anybody had told her, she wouldn't have even registered. "We'll go and see," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


	8. Encore

A/N: Here we are at the end of this story and I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing. I really hope you enjoyed and the story delivered to your expectations. I'd also like to thank my partners in kidnapping crime *checks garage again* *swoons* - and as always **ShadowSamurai83** for the beta and the bolstering of my confidence when I sat there and asked - what's the point? *tackleglomps*

And now, for the final time, enjoy.

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><p><strong>Encore<strong>

They hadn't talked about it, but by unspoken consent they met on this bench in the park, just down the road from the house. The one facing south. It had always been their bench, ever since her father had become so ill that they needed some place to escape to. He'd liked it too, warm and bright, so she thinks it fitting to come here.

They sit down and there is silence for a while as they both soak up the sun. It isn't a strained silence, so they both close their eyes and enjoy it. An onlooker will notice in amusement just how much their positions match.

"You got in late last night."

"You weren't alone when I did."

Both statements are made in a conversational tone, but in both there is a small smirk.

It's Gina who opens her eyes first and looks at her mother. Grace smiles, her face turned up to the sun.

"Is he treating you well?" Gina doesn't answer, thus forcing her mother to face her. "Despite everything?" There's a touch of concern now, and even though her voice is still gentle, Gina realizes that the mother lion is already preparing for battle, should it become necessary.

She understands the concern, is surprised that the past, long ago and recent, has so little impact on her personal relationship with Mr. Gerald Taylor. But it's the early stages yet and they have decided to keep family stories - as far as they concern the recent crime and long ago 'incident' - to a minimum. It's a little hard and a little awkward at times, but they make the effort and find plenty to talk about in spite of it.

"Yes, he does. We had a good time."

Grace relaxes back into her former position. "Good."

That is it.

It takes a moment for Gina to realize that indeed it is. Not from lack of interest or care, but because it really is. The man she's seeing is treating her well and she enjoys it, that's really the most important thing for her mother. Maybe that's the example she should follow the other way around.

"And you?" she asks and tries to keep any negative feeling out of the question. When she got up earlier this morning, the Audi that had been parked in front of the house last night was gone. But she had gotten up fairly late and found herself alone in the house. So, it doesn't have to mean anything.

"And me what?"

A knot of annoyance forms, but dissolves quickly when she realizes that she's being teased. It's not the best feeling in the world, but she guesses that she deserves it. A little.

"Boyd. You," she elaborates, and it sounds just a tad bit impatient.

Grace chuckles for a moment and then quietly starts. "Sometimes you are so much like him..." But before things can turn unpleasant, she relents. "We are good. He's beginning to relax again."

It's on Gina to snort, because she's never seen the DSI anywhere remotely relaxed, but her mother knows that even better than she does. The levity doesn't last long, though, because it isn't just their recent ordeal, but also test results they've been waiting for.

She takes a good look at her mother, notices the healthy complexion. Grace Foley doesn't look like an ill woman and that is a real relief.

It's only been a week since... but things are returning to normal. They still haven't talked about everything and despite the fact that curiosity drives her almost mad, Gina won't ask. There is, will be, time for that. But that time is not now.

They relax against the back of the bench, feeling the sun burn just a little. It's quiet around, almost but not yet fully lunch time. The park is fairly empty and they can hear the noises of shrubbery in the wind and birds flitting around. It's a small oasis in the big city.

"What's coming next?" Gina asks lazily after a while. She doesn't really know why she asks or to which time frame she refers, it's more a question that needs to be asked and answered in whichever way necessary. It's a tactic, a psychological one to start associations, so they both recognise it for that.

Her mother's answer is a little oblique, but it goes well with the day.

"Lunch."

"Are you cooking?"

Grace can feel her daughter's grin without seeing it, but doesn't react to the cheeky question. "No, he's taking us, if you can stomach it."

Following her mother's gesture, Gina can see Boyd slowly walking towards their bench. Somehow she isn't surprised that he knows it. It is a little more unusual to see the man hesitating in his approach. He crosses the distance, his sheepish smile turning into full-toothed charm, and then into something infinitely warmer.

Though she wants to scoff at it on principle, Gina swallows the idea as she rises. That final smile isn't for her.

"Ready for lunch?" Boyd asks. Both women nod and fall into step with him. It amuses Gina how the older two try to avoid obvious displays of affection and she has to look away to hide her grin. When she looks again, hands have been circumspectly clasped.

She doesn't comment on it.

"Where are we going?"

"Your choice. My shout."

She smirks speculatively and earns a mocking slap from her mother. "Behave!"

They chuckle for a moment.

It's good, Gina decides. It is, indeed, good.

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><p>Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.<p> 


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